Joanie Goes to Europe

I was not sure exactly how she felt, but my feelings were clear. This kind of life with such disgusting people such as all the Big Fishes, and yes I must also include Steve and Philip who pimp out their women who love them just to advance their careers, was not for me. Give me philandering Mike over this any day of the week.

I could not get around that Philip let this happen, and then left the room leaving me to the wolves, naked, strapped down and defenseless. It was only pure luck that I got into it. He must have known I would be gangbanged.

Could he have thought I actually wanted that? Wanting it and ending up enjoying it after it is forced upon you are not the same thing. Could a man understand that? I had my doubts.

Is it some kind of male fantasy that women enjoy being gangbanged by strangers who view them as conquests? What was wrong with him? Something, that was clear. I did not want the gangbang. I dreaded the gangbang, and I remember my terror when I was realized it was going to happen, and I was helpless to stop it. I will never forget that terror.

Honesty forces me to admit I did enjoy it as it turned out, but still: It's the principle of the thing. But nothing is worth that moment of terror. Nothing.

We again locked ourselves in our room. I left another note for the men, this time saying, "Your two beautiful women whom you used as whores for your own gain will not be seeing you tonight. You two pimps can go jerk off together."

I took Odessa to my room, put out the Do Not Disturb sign, closed and locked the door, and bolted it. Then I said to Odessa, "Let's undress in the windows. Do you want to titillate the Eiffel Tower, or give a thrill to the Arc de Triomphe? Bear in mind that Freud would say the Eiffel tower is phallic, while the Arc de Triomphe is definitively not."

Odessa giggled for the first time since our arrival in Paris. She got up to join me, slowly undressing in the window. She chose the Arc de Triomphe. She remarked that she had had her fill of phalluses.

The next day I was furious with Philip. My anger seemed to grow as the shock of the whole experience wore off. I do not see how, if he loved me, he could have left me bound to a bed with my legs splayed, having just been roughly fucked and prod with something like a cattle prod, with a bunch of men in the room who had just gangbanged Odessa and would now gangbang me.

That is what they did, until Odessa saved me. Still, I was taken by four of them before she could save me. Counting Harwood, I was fucked by five men. My cunt was seriously sore.

The only possible conclusion was that I was just a piece of meat for Philip. To hell with him. I would have thought Odessa would think the same about Steve, but she did not act that way. At breakfast when Philip saw me, it was if he were looking at a glacier.

Philip was not an idiot, although at times I wondered. He knew what he had done. I had tried so hard, and succeeded with four of the Big Fishes, especially Big Fish #1, and I had won my 5% cut. That was clear. Civility was no longer needed.

Philip though did look handsome and debonair. He came over to me meekly to apologize. He begged forgiveness, and had a bouquet of flowers in his hands. The flowers were spectacular. It was not just a dozen roses, but a floral creation, the likes of which I had never seen before.

It was clear he would do anything for me at this point to get me to warm up to at least room temperature, instead of being the icicle I presented to him. I was having none of it.

After breakfast I returned to the hotel room and locked Philip out. I left the beautiful floral creation behind on the breakfast table. I was not being subtle.

I was too upset to read the novel I had brought on the trip, and I was watching French daytime TV when there was a knock at my door. I ignored it. The knocking did not stop and I heard Odessa's voice. I muted the TV and went to the door, and Odessa said, "Joanie, it's Odessa. Please let me in."

I unbolted the door and opened it wide for Odessa. She was alone. Good. "Come on in, Odessa," I said and gestured her inside. She entered and sat down.

"Philip is in a state. He thinks you hate him," she said.

"He's right. That's the first correct thought that has entered his pathetic head. Don't you just as well hate Steve? And by the way, Philip didn't send you here, did he?" I said.

"I'm stranger than you think, Joanie." Odessa began. There was import to her voice. I sat down and gave her my full attention. "I know you are an exhibitionist. And I know you like sex and have quite a few partners. I know you're easy when you're drunk."

"I also know that whole bondage thing was just an act. Basically, you are a fairly straightforward girl who likes sex and showing off her body from time to time. Great body too, by the way."

"Thank you," I said. I did not say more, to let her continue. I could tell this was not easy for her.

"I, on the other hand, am so strange sexually I do not understand it myself. For example, when I saw you bound to the bed last night and getting roughly fucked and with that horrible electric thing, I viscerally felt it happening to me."

I looked at her in surprise, but also rapt attention.

Odessa continued, "I was not so much into my own gangbang as I was into experiencing what was happening to you. It was thrilling to me. Don't get me wrong: I also enjoyed the gangbang. I know that is not your thing, but all those men wanting to have me, one after the other, turns me on. A lot."

"It's the same with bondage. I long to be totally dominated, to be controlled and ravished and to be helpless while it is happening. But I am too afraid to try it. I am terrified of being helpless like you were."

"I do somehow enjoy it vicariously, though, for example when it happened to you last night. Steve knows all this. That's why I'm not mad at him for his behavior last night," she continued. "In fact, I'm still crazy about him," Odessa said.

"I really admire you, Joanie. Your courage, your take-charge attitude, your clever planning, and your ability to do what it takes, whatever it is. I wish I could be like you," she continued.

"I should have told you all this earlier. I apologize," Odessa concluded, and then fell silent.

I was silent too, absorbing all that she had said. It was a lot to absorb. Odessa was one sick puppy. But I liked her a lot, and I appreciated her honesty.

I went over and gave her a hug. She turned and kissed me full on the lips, a very sexy kiss and full of affection. Her hands fondled my breasts while she kissed me. I broke the kiss.

I said, "I'm sorry, Odessa. That's not really my thing. I enjoyed it when you went down on me back in New York, but that was a unique circumstance. I'm a committed hetero."

"I understand, Joanie," she replied. "I myself am mostly hetero, too. Mostly."

"I saw that last night," I said, and we both laughed. It was my first laugh since we got to Paris, I realized. We sat quietly for a while.

Odessa broke the silence. "What are you going to do about Philip?" she asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "It's awkward. I'm here on his nickel, stuck in Europe with him, and all I want to do is to kick him in the balls."

"Maybe you should pretend, until you are safely home in the US?" Odessa offered.

"That in fact may be the best strategy," I said. "How bad is he suffering? Is he truly worried, or just putting on an act?"

"Oh, he's in bad shape. Steve told me in confidence, and Steve was not lying. I can always tell when he lies," Odessa said.

"Good," I said. "Tell you what. Let's make them buy us some more clothes. Let's go have fun spending their money."

"There's another thing, Joanie. Better you hear it from me. That asshole Harwood wants to have lunch with you, Philip, and Harwood's wife," Odessa added. She was nervous when she said it.

I laughed loudly. "Oh, this is going to be fun. Bring him on!" I said. Then I fired up my computer. "A little more research to prepare for 'the lunch with assholes.' Want to stay while I get the lowdown?"

"No, Steve is waiting for me. I'd better go," Odessa said and got up to leave.

"OK, thanks for coming to me and calming me down," I said. "I also appreciate how open and honest you were with me just now."

I stayed in the room until 11am, working furiously on my computer. I was frustrated by the security of Harwood's pharmaceutical company. I could not penetrate it. I was impressed. I had illusions about my hacking skills, but I got nowhere with this company's security. It was good.

After a half hour of complete frustration, I had an epiphany. I realized I could hack into the company through the connection to it that Harwood himself had on his own computer. I was pleased with myself. Moreover, my plan actually worked. I was in!

What I discovered however shook my world, and scared the shit out of me. I might have been better off without the knowledge. I would not have understood what I found had I not learned already, in my Statistics class, how to analyze data.

But I had learned some stats, and I did understand. Then I smiled. I had Harwood. Revenge was in the offing, should I choose to use it. Were I to use it, it's possible I would be sacrificing my 5% commission, and that was a lot of money, especially for someone like me, a poor country girl. I faced some tough choices.

I emerged rested, happy, and very well dressed to face the world, at 11am. I went down to the lobby and found Odessa and Steve sitting in the overstuffed chairs. I had told Odessa I was planning to go shopping at 11am, and apparently she had waited for me. I was glad. I was no longer mad at Steve, due to Odessa's explanation. I smiled sweetly at both of them.

"I need to buy some new clothes before lunch," I announced.

"Joanie, you look beautiful right now," Steve said.

"Thank you monsieur," I said. "But if I am to lunch with Harwood, I need clothes that provide more of a defense, and also that impress his wife. What I'm wearing now is nice I agree, but too blatantly sexy. This is all about subtlety. And we don't have much time. Want to come?"

Odessa jumped up. We hopped in a cab and I said, "St. Germain des Près, s'il vous plait." The cab sped off. Nobody had mentioned Philip. Steve was smart, and probably well briefed by Odessa. I did not even know where this lunch meeting was, but I figured Philip would find us and get me there in time. Anyway, that was his problem.

I went to a few designer boutiques and found exactly what I wanted at Yves St. Laurent. There was the added benefit of the boutique facing the Eglise St. Sulpice, one of the great historic churches of Paris. It still had bullet holes in the stone from the revolution back in the 18th century. But I had no time to be a tourist.

I wore the outfit out of the store, and asked the store to deliver the clothes I had worn to the store to my hotel. Fancy stores do stuff like that, I had learned. It also helps to be staying at one of the fanciest hotels of Paris, as we were.

It was a different world from the world of Target that I had grown up with in my hometown. I charged everything to the gold American Express card Philip had given to me.

Then we crossed to the right bank and went to Bulgari. There I bought a necklace that went perfectly with my YSL suit jacket, and again charged it. It had different colored gemstones set in gold.

It was just as expensive as it was stunning. Good. Philip would pay for his acts with money, the bastard. I had already paid up front with sex, degradation, and humiliation.

At Bulgari I also bought something I had always wanted. It was a large gold Maltese cross on a long gold chain. It was solid gold (18 carats) and it fell between my boobs, emphasizing my cleavage. I loved the sacrilege of drawing a man's attention to my cleavage with a beautiful religious symbol. It just seemed so perverse to me!

My experience however was that no incentive or trickery was needed to draw a man's attention to my cleavage. Their eyes were relentlessly drawn there in any event, gold cross or no gold cross.

It was not so strange I thought. The Catholic religion had always known if it could control even your sex life, it had total control over you. And if I transgressed, I could always confess and be forgiven. But the church had to know what I'd done, and knowledge is power. I was raised that way. The cross held tightly between my boobs was my own small personal rebellious act: my revenge.

Under my YSL jacket I wore a scoop necked silk blouse with a push up bra, and the cross looked stunning, becoming partially lost inside my boobs. But with the jacket on, nobody besides me would know. After the YSL and the Bulgari purchases, I was beginning to wonder if Philip's card even had a credit limit!

I went back to Steve and Odessa just as they were receiving a text from Philip with the coordinates of the restaurant for the lunch with assholes, as I thought of it. Steve put me in a cab and off I went, in my new clothes and jewelry.

I also wore my Christian Louboutin high heels. I made a mental note to pick up another pair of them. I had never worn more comfortable high heels.

The Yves St. Laurent outfit was within the rubric of a woman's business suit, even if it pushed at the boundaries. But it hugged my curves so well, and so suggestively, that if a woman actually wore it to a business meeting she would have all the men in the palm of her hand.

The luscious fabric of the YSL suit hugged my boobs and outlined them, giving them a large emphasis but doing it in a subtle way. It was almost as if my body was hyper sexy in spite of my attempts to ignore that feature of it. This was genius, in a suit.

I wished I could lose my bra, and let my boobs feel directly the unmediated caresses of the suit jacket, but I knew I had to wear a bra at a lunch such as this one.

I made a stunning entrance to the lunch. I was a sight to see. Everyone in the restaurant looked at me as I entered alone. It was mostly the YSL suit. But the necklace worked its magic too. The host ushered me to the table, and Harwood and Philip stood to greet me.

I shook Harwood's hand, and gave Philip a peck on the cheek. It was a kiss a middle-aged protestant woman would give to another such woman. It was devoid of sexuality, and devoid of emotion.

I gave a big smile to Mrs. Harwood. She had to know her husband had fucked my brains out the night before, but she seemed not to care and gave me a big smile back. I wished I had been sitting next to her instead of between the two men.

I had a funny thought. Maybe Mrs. Harwood was even happy her husband got his rocks off fucking some banker's woman, so he would not bother her with his perversions? I guessed she had long ago had her fill of them.

The waiter came, and I ordered in French. The others ordered in English. This was a tiny power move, and it endeared me to the waiter. He paid a lot of attention to my needs. The men made small talk, and Mrs. Harwood chimed in from time to time, but I was silent and only smiled.

Frustrated by my silence, finally Harwood looked at me, and said, "So, Joanie. Tell me about Navaserum." I knew of course this was coming, which is why I had spent so much time spying on his company this morning.

"What do you mean, Mr. Harwood?" These were the first words I spoke at the lunch, other than the initial hellos when I arrived. "I understand it is being developed to treat Alzehimer's disease. Or is it Parkinson's? I forget."

Harwood knew I had not forgot. "How did you happen to hear about it?" he said. "We have been keeping it under wraps."

"Oh, you know how it is," I said, feigning a Marilyn Monroe sort of innocence. "A girl hears things. For example, you have my sympathy with the problems you are having with your clinical trials in Senegal. All those deaths must be quite a set back."

Harwood almost choked on his wine and turned bright red in the face. His wife looked concerned. Philip looked confused. I could not see my own face, but I was trying to mimic Marilyn's Monroe's look of false naïve innocence. Harwood began to sputter.

I said, looking at Philip, "This was a nice choice of restaurant. The vegetable puree is delicious." I turned my head towards Harwood's wife and continued, "Don't you agree, Mrs. Harwood?" I was the first person to speak directly to her at the lunch.

"Why yes, Joanie. It is indeed." She paused a beat, and then said, "If you do not mind, tell me please, where did you get that beautiful necklace? It goes so well with your jacket. I've been admiring it all during lunch," Mrs. Harwood said.

"Why thank you, that is so nice of you to notice. Philip bought it for me just this morning," I said, gently kicking Philip under the table. "It's from Bulgari."

"I thought it was!" Mrs. Harwood said. "You never really know these days; the knockoffs are getting to be such good replicas it is hard to tell. But your necklace falls so beautifully and the stones are so lovely, I felt it must be the real thing."

"Yes. Philip always insists on the best for me." I gave Philip another gentle kick under the table. "May I show you what else Philip got me?"

"Oh yes, please!" Mrs. Harwood said with enthusiasm. Philip looked worried. He knew Bulgari was not cheap.

I stood up and removed my jacket, revealing my blouse and a lot of boob, due to my push up bra. Then I slowly bent over letting the men look down my blouse to see all the boob my bra did not hide, and since the bra hid a minimal amount, that was most.

The bra pushed my boobs together. They and were tightly embracing the cross between them, and in fact they hid from view the bottom half of the cross. I had chosen the length of the gold chain precisely to make that happen. I slowly, sexily, pulled the cross up, out from between my boobs.

Both Harwood and Philip were mesmerized as I did this. Mrs. Harwood gave me an approving, and knowing smile. She knew all about her asshole of a husband, that was clear.

She enjoyed watching me tease him. I think she admired my technique. If so, it was a big complement. I knew she was something else, when Harwood told me last night I was almost her equal.

"It's beautiful my dear. Do you wear it religiously, or just because it's gorgeous?" Mrs. Harwood remarked.

"It's complicated," I replied. It was important for us to keep talking, to shut Harwood out of the conversation.

At this point Harwood was very frustrated. I had dropped a bombshell over the Senegal trials, and his wife's girl talk was preventing him from following up. Mrs. Harwood was well aware of all this, I could tell, and it seemed to me that she was enjoying frustrating the pig of a husband she had."

In addition, I now looked super sexy, having gone from attractive but in a sterile sort of way, to very sexy, just by removing my jacket and pulling out my cross. I had planned the whole thing, of course, and it was working perfectly.

I flamboyantly pushed the cross back down between my boobs. I had both Philip and Harwood in the palm of my hand.

I knew Harwood wanted to throw me down and fuck me silly and then beat the information out of me, but that was hard to do in a high-end businessman's restaurant in the presence of his wife. I was actually safer with her present than I was with Philip being there. Not a good thought.

I continued my answer to Mrs. Harwood by saying, "I was raised Catholic." I looked at Philip and said, "Sometimes I sin. Letting my breasts fondle the cross eases the guilt." I gave my Marilyn Monroe false innocence look. Mrs. Harwood barely managed to keep from laughing.

Mrs. Harwood and I kept up girl banter for the rest of the lunch. We went off to the restrooms together and became fast friends, despite the age difference. Neither one of us liked Harwood; that was clear to me, and I think it was also clear to her. She realized I had let Harwood fuck me the previous night as a favor to my wimp /pimp of a boyfriend Philip. I hoped she was not too judgmental. Personally, I thought of myself as scum.