IRC - When Predator Becomes Prey

Claudette had been on auto pilot through her final meeting of the day. No-one would have noticed that though. Claudette was such a professional. No-one except Selena would have noticed. She knew Claudette inside, and out and she would have known about the pre-occupation. The buzz that Claudette had woken with that Friday morning was one that stayed with her all day and on more than one occasion, caused her to clench her thighs. It was like an adrenalin rush. One that went right to the base of her clitoris and stayed there. Just throbbing in the base of her clitoris like a little 'nag' all day. Threatening to make its way to the tip of her clitoris but never quite getting off first base.

And yet, when actually, for the first time Claudette came face to face with the "boy", in her mind she exhaled in an almost cry of disappointment. The little shit who had caused pandemonium on a global scale, turned out to be just that. A little shit of a boy. Stephane DeLaurie was a tiny, almost petite slip of a young man. Actually in the context of 'man', he was a sorry excuse. Claudette could easily, and simply hide any shock or feelings she had. She had had to do that in business for many years on a daily basis. She had long since subscribed to the analogy that 'life was one big bluff'. The few seconds it took, for Selena to usher in Stephane, make the introductions and for the two to shake hands, Claudette had scanned the 'boy'. Taken in his almost girlish blonde locks and his flawless, hairless face. Oh he was a pretty boy. She had to give him that. He WAS an extremely pretty boy. But so slightly built that she had the feeling that if she shook his hand with her usual firmness, the bones would surely break. His slightness, or skinniness was such that whilst he appeared tall, in actual fact, of he was very short for a man, at little more than five feet six inches. That WAS short for a man even if he was only twenty years old. There would be no future growth spurts that was for sure. Five feet six was his height. Full stop.

"I am SO pleased to meet you Mr DeLaurie, so pleased. I can't tell you how long I have been trying to fit you into my plans. Or indeed hoping that you would fit in with my plans."

Claudette's turn to exaggerate. Using words and a tone that was almost like sucking up to Stephane. That was no accident. Everything that Claudette did was deliberate. It was built-in to her plan. She already felt that she knew Stephane DeLaurie so well. Intimately in fact. As well as digging into his personal real life, she had read and re-read selected logs of chats that he had had with several of his victims. She had researched his online persona minutely. She read what he liked to see in a woman under his control and she dressed accordingly for the meeting. Her forty FF breasts barely contained in a low cut top and which threatened to roll out with every slight movement she made. And a skirt so tight to her thighs that it forced a hobble in the high heels she wore. And yet at the same time, short enough to display the extraordinary length of her shapely legs. Those same legs sheathed in the sheerest of nylon. Her hair piled high then pulled back into a high tight pony tail and makeup so heavy that even she knew she looked like a hooker. But it was a look that he liked. It was how he liked the women he terrorised to look.

From Stephane DeLaurie's point of view, he was stunned. His eyes peeled open wide as this giant of a woman came towards him with her hand extended in greeting. To highlight the scale involved, DeLaurie was no more than a slight, five feet six man-boy. Claudette was five feet ten inches in her bare feet. She was wearing five inch heels which brought her to a towering six feet three. On top of that she was stacked with forty FF breasts, had a twenty six inch waist and thirty eight inch hips. To say that she 'dwarfed' this boy would be an understatement. He swallowed and his eyes peeled open. But he was as expert as Claudette at masking shock, or surprise, or disappointment. He placed his soft hand into hers for the greeting. Even her hands, ultra feminine and perfectly manicured seemed to make his look, and feel tiny. God he was weedy to the point of being effeminate.

"Claudette the feeling is mutual of course."

He spoke in reply as she indicated a chair on one side of her desk. She made her way to her own seat. It was ok, Claudette was used to having her tits spoken to as opposed to her face. It happened all the time. She knew what he was thinking. Or at least along the lines of what he was thinking. In his mind she just knew that already he was clamped onto one of her teats with his teeth and was laying the riding crop across the other. She just knew he would be thinking along those lines. And so she didn't in anyway hold back from exaggerating her movement as she sat. Causing her breasts to roll in the most provocative ways. All of the flesh rippling and rolling as she sat. She knew also that he was a leg man. Or a leg 'boy' as it turned out. So she moved her chair back from the huge, oak desk enough for him to be able to see and fully appreciate the deliberately slow leg cross which was accompanied by the rasp of nylon on nylon. He hid it well, but she knew, she knew all to well that he was dribbling inside his trousers at the sight she had treated him to. She had further emphasised the Amazonian proportions of her breasts as she poured two glasses of prepared, chilled water. Leaning over her desk had inevitably brought the massive mammaries to rest on the desk top. As Claudette had then reached for the water, reached for the glasses and slid the filled glasses in front of herself and Stephane, her breasts had rolled and shifted, and distorted a little for his further pleasure. She could smile without being seen. She could do that simply because DeLaurie's eyes were fixed to those breasts. He didn't even hide that. Just like he didn't try to mask the slippery, quite repulsive lick of his lips.

"I want to talk business, but first of all I want to talk about MissMyndFuck."

It was like an electric bolt out of the blue. It was short and straight to the point. Stephane hadn't finished feasting his eyes on Claudette's exceptional breasts, but his eyes snapped up to meet hers. She looked directly at him. A delicate smile just about curled onto her glossed lips. His mind went into an immediate whirl. He hadn't been expecting it. He had known she had been digging. But not that she had discovered his MissMyndFuck persona. That was a problem for him but he didn't show it. He didn't show it at all. He simply picked up the glass and took a sip of water. Then took another and replaced the glass before responding.

"Sorry, who?"

He smiled and her eyes didn't leave his. Once the initial shock had died down, and he had composed himself inwardly, his arrogant untouchable self kicked in. It was ok, he thought, his security had been so tight, so flawless that even if someone had kind of worked it out, it could never be proved. The evidence could never be collected and collated and then traced back to him. Little did he know that it already had been. 'Lesbian bitch is pissing into the wind'.... was his immediate thought. And yet there was a rising cause for concern.

"If I mention Alexandra Rothe and 'fullcry' for instance, will that help to jog your memory?"

Claudette brushed imaginary dust off her top making her breasts jiggle and ripple a little more, right in his line of sight. Stephane's heart missed several beats. If she knew about Alexandra Rothe then she knew about finances. But still his security had been so tight, it would still be next to impossible to pin on him. He had spent months and months building up his security. Ensuring it was watertight, he thought. His mouth curled into a smile a little frown across the brow indicating, falsely that he didn't have a clue what Claudette was talking about.

"Awwww still a memory problem Mr DeLaurie? Well, let me try again. Lets ignore, for a moment the sexual entrapment and abuse of the individuals 'MissMyndFuck' hunted on-line. Now I KNOW you know that Alexandra Rothe is indeed linked to you and your bank accounts. And I KNOW that in amongst your many sexual victims, there are women who have been relieved of their savings, investments and properties. And I KNOW that all of these transactions are linked to YOU Mr DeLaurie. Am I making any inroads now to your memory."

The smile had begun to fade from Stephane's face and he swallowed visibly and dryly. And yet there was still that arrogance. He kind of looked at Claudette's shifting breasts deliberately and for a long few seconds before finally responding, still with a smile on his face that some people might have been persuaded to slap off.

"You'll never prove that shit. I've covered my tracks too well. You've got fuck-all on me. FUCK ALL."

Claudette laughed this time as she sat back and recrossed her legs.

"Well, I have to give it to you. You have been very clever but you have also been very stupid. All of that re-routing of your internet connections, through all of those countries and all of those ISPs. So clever. Very clever. And yet, all of those connections leading back to the one fixed IP address. The one fixed computer. That computer you have with you right now I am guessing."

Claudette indicating the expensive leather laptop bag that DeLaurie had placed in top of the expansive desk. She was right of course, that was 'the' offending machine. And his eyes darted to it, as though any second it would be snatched away and sealed into an evidence bag or something. Whilst explaining in simple terms that she knew how his scam was operated Stephane's colour was draining from his face at a rate of knots. His complexion had become pale, almost white, definitely sallow.

"I have logs. Bank account details. Transactions. Times. Dates. I have everything. And everything leads back to you. NOW am I jogging your memory."

Claudette blew down her considerable cleavage. Another piece of imaginary dust dislodged. Even in Stephane's diminishing arrogance and confidence he couldn't resist yet another lingering, almost lecherous look at those gorgeous tits. If it were possible for a twenty year old city IT expert to look perverse, and obscene, then this little shit DeLaurie was that person.

"And I Claudette Tennison, also know about your little sideline. 'Athenia'. BonNet.com. Lesbian Bitch. But I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement."

A split second resurgence of confidence. Stephane DeLaurie's turn to sit back. Quite smugly in his chair. Admittedly, she hadn't been expecting that but she was not adverse to a little cat-and-mouse when the occasion called for it. In his mind she hadn't been expecting that and should have been rocked to the core because of it. Claudette just looked at the boy. Kind of letting him have his few seconds of glory before her mouth curled into a wide, lip-glossed smile and then a little chuckle. She chuckled directly into his face before picking up her glass of water and sipping a little.

"Hmmmmmm, so I am a lesbian and I administer a fetish chat network, which means what, exactly?"

"It means you are finished if you don't comply with MY requirements."

It wasn't exactly how Stephane had envisaged this meeting going at all. He was on the back foot and he had needed to make his move early. Because it was early it was also laughably clumsy. He had to put his cards on the table sooner rather than later. In fact, his actions at this point were smacking of desperation. Claudette tossed her pony tailed mane of thick red hair back and laughed again as she sat forward on her chair, causing her breasts to roll and shift again.

"So.. I am lesbian. Wow.. that is a revelation in this day and age. And, I run an adult chat network. Wow. News Of The World stuff! Neither of these things break any laws of the land by the way but yeah. Yeah you got me there.... and oh, yes you have got one thing dead right... I am a Bitch. One of the first order. You just don't know how much of a bitch, yet."

Claudette had been a little taken aback that Stephane had done some homework of his own. But it was ok, he was desperate she could sense that. She kept her private life private, but being a lesbian was hardly going to be the coupe of the century had it been made public. She wasn't exactly a closet lesbian, and it didn't take much math to work it out. And BonNet.com, so what? She sat back again, studied Stephane for a little while before talking again.

"You dropped out just before your seventeenth birthday and your parents don't want to know you. I know the reason for that as well by the way. Actually, I know your father very well. Lord Laurie and myself go back a long long way."

There was all but a deep, exhaling groan that poured from between Stephane's lips as the masses of knowledge that Claudette held on him was given to him, a little bit at a time. He seemed to shrink into his seat in incremental steps as things began to unravel in front of him.

"So Steven Laurie drops out. Out of sight and re-merges as Stephane DeLaurie. Who's a clever boy then hmmm?

"You'll never pin any of this stuff on me.... never.. you fucking dyke bitch."

Once again, Claudette let the boy have his little outburst. This time there was some emotion in his voice. She recognised that. She was winning the battle hands down. She liked the show of emotion. It was yet another layer that once exposed could be peeled back, and cajoled.

"Hmmmm well, that would remain to be seen. But I KNOW that you KNOW that I have all the information that I need to pretty much ensure that you wouldn't see the light of day for a good few years. And then, well, there's what that means. A pretty boy like you, in prison. There are guys in prison who would just 'love' a lil boy like you......"

Claudette spoke slowly, even paused so that her words could sink in. Stephane's eyes dimmed a little more with each word spoken and as realisation began to sink in. He leaned forward in his chair agitated, and then running long lender fingers through his thick locks of blonde hair.

".... but then, we mustn't forget what you would be in prison for. Oh, there would be all that fraud, and all those financial irregularities. But also you would be a 'sexual offender'. And if I am not mistaken, you would be in the one of the worst classes of sexual offender. I mean you would be up there with the paedophiles and rapists. I mean, what you have been doing on a mass scale for the last three years is nothing short of serial rape. Serial abuse of the most obscene kind. Not to mention the terrible corruption that you have carried out to your 'victims'..... Do you have any idea of the kind of time that sex offenders have in prison, hmmmm?"

Claudette was spelling out an extremely bleak future for Stephane DeLaurie and he was taking it in and was feeling every single word filter in, tumble round and then settle on his psyche.

"You're fucking bluffing you bitch cunt... you are fucking BLUFFING."

Another outburst, expressing himself the only way he knew how. Stephane DeLaurie's true colours coming to the fore. Claudette got up. A deliberately slow rise so that she towered over the shrinking boy in the chair. She came around to his side of the desk. To him, her high heels sounded loud, amplified. Even the rasp of nylon on nylon as her upper thighs rubbed with every step seemed louder and seemed to fill his head. The chickens coming home to roost. She walked around the back of him and trailed her fingers around his shoulders and then came back round and slid up on the desk right next to him. More deliberately engineered movements designed to grip him. Hold him where she wanted him. This time she crossed her incredible legs just inches from him. God, he seemed so small next to her. Small and shrinking all the time. His cock would have been twitching. She just knew that despite the shock he was being subjected to, his cock would be twitching.

"Well, no, no I am not bluffing in that I have all the information I need to sink you for a long long time. The fact is that I don't want to do that. Not in the way I have described above anyway. The point of letting you know that I have all of this information is that I want your attention. I want your undivided attention. Once I have that, well... once I have your attention and once I know that you are actually listening to me instead of living in that freaked out fantasy world that you have been living in for the last three years, well.. then we can talk business...."

Claudette talked coolly and calmly. She spoke clearly and she spoke down to Stephane. By this time he could barely raise his eyes to hers. He was in deep deep shit and he knew it. Although, it could be said that right at this time he had absolutely no clue how deep the shit was. And yet, even with his mind beginning to melt and beginning to be unable to function correctly, the lesbian bitch wanted to talk business. She still wanted to talk business. It looked, at that precise time at least, that there was a way out of it for him. OK, so for the first time in his life he might have to take the rough end of the deal. He might not come out of it with so much as he thought. And, ok ok, he might not have this bitch where he wanted her, so cropping and sucking those glorious tits of hers, and generally splashing about inside of her might have to wait until he could turn the tables again. Then she would pay. Then she would pay dearly for this grief she was giving him. But for now... at least there was a little chink of light. At least there was some hope.

"Ok.. ok... what do you want... what the FUCK do you want from me?"

Now there was a contriteness in his voice. For the first time there was a hint of contriteness. Like an acceptance that he was being held by the balls, by this big titted lesbian lunatic. Claudette recognised that. No-one could be involved in the fetish and BDSM scene, as much as she was and not recognise that tone of defeat. She simply moved one hand, stroking two of her fingers around the almost delicate jaw line of the boy until they were under his chin then she lifted. Guided his chin up until his eyes met hers.

"All in good time. All in good time. I'm not that convinced I have your fullest attention just yet. I mean correct me if I am wrong, but you are probably thinking you can sense a way out of all this now. That in some way you can slither your way out of the shit you are in on an enormous scale. So... just so that I know you know that isn't the case, I want you to see something. And I reckon that right about now is the time."

She checked her wrist watch. Claudette had this eery kind of insight into people's minds. She had hit the nail on the head and she wanted him to know it. In knowing it, he would be sinking just that little bit deeper into the beginnings of a pit of despair. She released the boys chin and reached for a remote control unit. The remote operated the wall-mounted fifty inch plasma screen on the far wall of the designer, minimalist office. The screen immediately flickered to life. Stephane DeLaurie had been shown into Claudette's office by Selena at exactly 5.30pm and although it must have seemed like a creeping crawling lifetime to him, only half an hour had passed since that introduction, and to the juncture that had been reached now. The evening news was just starting. The state-of-the-art television housing four separate tuners which meant that the screen could be split into four, with four different channels being watched at the same time. Such coverage was sometimes necessary when something big was happening in the markets. Or when there were worldwide news events. The roof of the company's building was covered with various sized satellite dishes that were pointed in various directions and to various degrees to the skies above.