IRC - When Predator Becomes Prey

"Good girl, good girl.... Hungry cunt. Dirty girl. Mmmmm now do you want the other, hmmmm?"

Stephane still sucking and cleaning the cock as she nodded and looked imploringly up at Claudette. Her eyes said it all. She wanted the other cock just as badly just as hungrily as she wanted the first and there was a groan of delight as the second cock was glided, in one swift smooth movement into the semen infested, warm wet interior of Stephane's mouth. The grunt hungry, needy, the tone feminine as she set about her second task of that particular day.

A few weeks later....

The city bar was buzzing with the early evening crowd. City workers on their usual stop-off at the watering hole before making their weary way home through the usual commuter throng. Talk of huge bonuses and what the weekend held in store was the order of the day. Attractive women mingling in either groups of women or with their male colleagues. Some drinking wine. Some drinking beer. There was no shame in power dressed women wrapping their lips around the top of a beer bottle. They just didn't give a shit. On some tables there were spent or half spent champagne bottles. Those mixed with wine bottles, and crazy cocktail glasses. The scene was a usual Friday evening one. The week's work done. Some nice bonuses banked. Work hard, play harder. It was the City way.

In one dimly lit corner booth, away from the crowd, two women sat in close, and seemingly intense conversation. One of the women was an impressive statuesque woman in her early forties. She was power-dressed and her femininity enhanced to the maximum. She had this ability, even just to look at her, of getting over the fact that she didn't like to be, or would not be fucked about by anyone. The swell of her breasts under an expensive silk top was almost frighteningly huge. That was the swell that most men would fix their eyes on. Oh Claudette had been through the sexual harassment thing when she had arrived in the City all those years ago. She had dealt with it. She never got sexually harassed any more. Guys these days were too scared of losing their balls. Little did they know how literally close to the truth that could be. Oh they may have a sly look. Even a sly lick of the lips as she strode past. But the moment, that fraction of a second in which their eyes met, the guy would always be the one who blinked first and looked away. If she so chose, she could eat men alive. Ask anyone in that bar on that particular night. Any one of them, male or female would know Claudette and any one of them would shake their heads if asked if any of them would mount any form of challenge against her. Claudette kicked ass in the City. There was no doubt about it. She kicked ass in the charismatic stakes. But always, not more often than not but always, her reputation preceded her.

The other woman was younger. Much younger. In her twenties. That is just about in her twenties. She had flame red hair that seemed to be pulled back tight from her quite heavily made up face, and secured in a high tight pony tail that seemed to erupt from the top of her head. She was leaning in slightly, as though hanging on to every word the older woman was saying. Impressively long legs were sheathed in what looked like expensive nylons and her feet were arched into fuck-me-pumps that had heels so high that they were only just about manageable. The gold, early evening cocktail dress was short. Yes it was short but it was also kind of loose. Low cut front and back gathered to reveal enough flesh. The young woman's cleavage blatantly visible to whoever cared to look. Claudette's eyes, periodically flicked down to the cleavage. One of her hands was rested on the thigh of the young woman and was stroking gently. Claudette never hid her sexuality. Oh she never announced her lesbian tendencies to the world. Never 'came out' as such. But also never remained in the closet. She didn't care. Nobody cared in this day and age and in such a cosmopolitan city. Besides, it added to her aura. That aura of mystery that surrounded probably the single most successful woman in the City. Occasionally people would look across to the booth. Always they would wonder who Claudette's latest girl was. Even envy the girl whoever she was. There would be that envy in both women's and men's eyes. That was the sort of attention that Claudette didn't mind. She could take the distance worship, and it almost was a worship. She could take any amount of that any day of the week. She didn't welcome anyone invading her space though.

At one point Claudette's hand slipped around the nylon thigh and under the dress. What wouldn't be noticeable in the buzz of the bar was that she was forcing the younger woman to open her thighs a little. First to uncross her legs and then just part her knees a little. The hand wandering up, all the time stroking, and then out of sight under the dress. Probably no-one would notice the eager tongue of the girl washing over her own lips as the hand disappeared. It was what went on under the dress and out of sight that was private. Very private. Claudette finding the tiny thong and just gently slipping it to the side so that she could slip first one, then two fingers inside the girl. Gently working them deep. Then once deep enough, hooking them back and pressing just above the pubis and outward. Like she was massaging the G spot with her two fingers. As she did this, adjusting herself on the seat. Leaning in closer, and whispering into the girl's ear.

"See, no-one knows you any more. No-one is looking for Stephane any more. Stephane doesn't exist. As far as anyone is concerned, Stephane got out of the country and is holed up in some foreign paradise. Or... the other possibility that went through the authorities minds is that Stephane has committed suicide in some god forsaken hole somewhere. The body never found, or never would be found. No-one, would ever guess... well.. well they just wouldn't. No one will be looking for Stephane, the redhead, the blonde, the brunette or whatever I decide to make you on any given day. Stephane is gone and now you are here."

All the time Claudette's fingers working deep. The girl's cunt hungrily sucking the fingers. The eyes and the mouth saying it all.

"And what do you have to say to me, hmmmm? What have you got to say to me Stephanie, hmmm?"

The tongue slashing over the young girl's deep red lips again. Even in the buzz of the bar, if one were to look closely at the girl's face one would be able to see her exhaling the air from between those full, plump lips. An even closer look would see that abandon in the eyes to. But that was just it, no-one did ever look that closely. No-one dared. But then they only didn't dare because of Claudette's reputation in the City. If they had known what she was capable of on a more intimate level. Or, if they had had any clue what she was capable of through her sexuality and her overt sexual interests, it would send a shudder down the spine of the most hardened. And yet, that would only add even more to her aura and mystery. Like another level. Stephanie, formerly known as Stephane, leaned in to Claudette and whispered huskily into her ear, even as the two fingers were working inside of her new, extra sensitised sexuality.

"Mmmm thank you Miss Athenia, thank you for everything. Thank you so much."

Claudette exhaling as the girl's words hissed in to her ears and mind. There was almost a pitiful gratitude in Stephanie's husky tones.

"We have the whole weekend.... I want you to suffer, just a little bit. Well actually, not just a little bit. A lot. But then you deserve to suffer don't you Stephanie? To suffer in my Rubber Rooms, hmmmm?

There was that flick of pure dread that passed over the made up eyes of the former MissMyndFuck, the former City IT expert. The former man-boy. But it was an instant dread, there one second then gone. Quickly replaced by one of adoration and a need to please.

"Y-yes Miss Athenia... yes this slut wants and deserves to suffer."

As Stephanie was whispering, so Claudette was bringing her off in an intense orgasm. But no-one would know. The turmoil and intensity of the orgasm held and restrained. If Stephanie made any sound, or gave away even minutely the fact that she was orgasming, then well, the suffering that weekend would be multiplied. Claudette let the girl ride the orgasm before take her finger out of, and then tracing the outline of Stephanie's lips with her own cuntal produce.

"Good girl."

The thing was, that in this world, that is the outside world, 'suffering' meant many different things on many different levels. No-one from the outside, 'normal' world would ever, could ever comprehend what suffering meant in Claudette's world. Even as Claudette and a completely sex changed Stephanie left that bar, arms linked, no-one could ever even slightly guess, or imagine, not even in their worst nightmares what Stephanie would suffer that weekend. All of that weekend. And for all of the future.

THE END

of the beginning

© drkfetyshnyghts 2009

An End -Note From The Author:

I concede that some technicalities of IRC, networks and protocols contained herein may not be accurate. That isn't the point, the cautionary tale remains the same. Predators can hide behind their computer screens, but the digital fingerprint remains and predators DO become prey. Y'all be careful out there :)

TO BE CONTINUED...