This was published on /r/rapestories a few weeks ago, and is NSFW. Content included coerced MF sex. Enjoy!

Found the beginning of a story on my drive and thought I'd post it. Its coercive wrather than forced, and Involves professional women being recruited to work for a shady investment bank in Beverly Hills, and should appeal to MBA / finance types. Any feedback / encouragement appreciated.

Crescent Investment, Pt 1

I was parked behind an office building in Sherman Oaks, one of those little white four story buildings with stairs along the side and a shitty elevator with dirty carpet that jerked when it reached a new floor. Of course, I had never been in the building, so I could have been wrong, but I’ve been in a lot of buildings like that and, let’s face it, I’m not wrong all that often.

Since it was eighty-five degrees outside, Kelly would be taking the shitty elevator, no doubt. Sherman Oaks was always hot, a full ten degrees hotter than my place in Beverly Hills, where I rarely turned on the air conditioning. I waited for her to come through the main doors.

My wife always hated the air conditioning. Air-con, she had called it, which I guess is what they called it in Malaysia and Indonesia. Well, not my wife, my ex-wife. Why was I still thinking about her? It had been three years since Mei walked out the door, telling me that I was a loser who didn’t make enough money in the direct and blunt way that Asians do.

She was right, of course, I had hit a slump and for a good eighteen months it looked like my MBA wouldn’t be worth the paper it was printed on. First she was supportive, then she was dismissive, and then she left. The ink was barely dry on my divorce decree when I got the call from Roy about a new job.

“People think all MBAs are assholes, but its not true. There’s good people and bad people, just like in any other field.” Roy had told me. Of the twenty or so classes that I took to get my business degree, Roy had been in at least ten, so he knew what he was talking about. “But for this job I’m trying to fill, the degree isn’t enough. I really do need an asshole.”

And I had taken the job. What choice did I have? My finances were running on fumes at that point - I nearly cried when the signing bonus hit my bank account. For years I had been the proverbial nice guy and what had it gotten me? Divorced and broke. And then, just by agreeing to be an asshole, I had instantly become fifty-six thousand dollars richer.

I watched Kelly exit the building through the front doors - I was right, she had taken the elevator - and walk to the parking lot, looking for me and my car. She was about twenty-nine or thirty, wearing a blouse, skirt, and low heels and walked with that brisk walk that current and former secretaries tend to have. Attractive but unavailable would be a good description for her, although plenty of men would just shorten that to bitch.

I caught her attention and she walked over to the driver’s side window to talk to me. “You can’t come to my work like this. This is harassment. You need to fucking leave before I call the police,” she said.

“Quit fucking around and get in the car,” I responded. “Unless you want to have this conversation in your human resource manager’s office.”

“I am the fucking human resource manager,” she said. But she walked to the passenger door and sat inside, picking up the tablet that was on the seat and handing it to me.

“Touch the screen, go through the document, and sign the last page,” I told her.

“Why would I sign anything?” Kelly asked,defiant. “You really think I’m scared of you? You’re a pathetic little debt collector. I’ll take your company six months to get a judgment that you still won’t be able to collect on. Worst case, I’ll declare bankruptcy and start over. “

“Here’s where you’re wrong, Kelly.” I said. “We didn’t loan you money. We invested it in your design business.”

Kelly shrugged. “So? What’s the difference?”

“The financial industry is the most highly regulated industry in America.” I said. “There are restrictions on how you raise capital, who you raise it from, and how much you can raise. Then once you’re running the company, there are strict reporting requirements - preparing and releasing audited financial statements every quarter. “

I continued. “Companies that don’t follow those regulations are in non-compliance. And as you can guess, non-compliance comes with penalties. Financial penalties and criminal penalties. And it puts investors like us in a position where they can take anything and everything from you.”

Kelly sat in the passenger seat, thinking back on the company that she had created as part of our business deal. “Look,” she said quietly. “Your firm prepared all of that business paperwork for me. If there’s a legal issue with it, then you’re in as much trouble as I am.”

“Yes, we prepared it, at your request.” I said. “But you signed it and you submitted it. Would you like to guess which one of us is going to Federal prison for seven years for securities fraud, accounting fraud, and tax evasion?”

Kelly looked out the window for a few moments. “I should talk to a lawyer,” she said quietly.

“Can you afford a lawyer?” I asked her. “And can you get one by tomorrow morning?”

“My father’s a fucking lawyer,” Kelly said. “And he’ll destroy you.”

“Your father’s a divorce lawyer, Kelly,” I said. “Are we done fucking around yet?”

“You can’t keep me here,” Kelly said. But she wasn’t leaving, so I just waited, not saying anything.

Finally she asked, “What happens tomorrow morning?”

“U.S. Attorney’s office files charges against you,” I said.

“That’s bullshit,” Kelly said. “Why would they care about me?”

“Because we pay someone there to care,” I said.

“What do you want from me?” she snapped. “Why do this? I don’t have anything.”

I put my hand on her thigh in response, and she angrily took it off and stared me down. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“You don’t have a choice, Kelly.” I said to her, coldly.

“So that’s what you want.” Kelly said bitterly. “Is this the only way you can fuck a woman? By threatening her with federal prison?”

I put my hand on her upper thigh again, and this time she didn’t move it away.

Ron had told me that once we laid it all out for them, intelligent women would understand their situation pretty quickly and submit, and he was right. At this point, she thought that all we wanted from her was sex. Let her think that. Let her devalue herself in the way that so many women do.

“Now I’m going to take you to the back seat and fuck you,” I said.

“Not here,” Kelly said, frightened. “I work here. People could be watching or even walking by. And I need to go back inside - I have a meeting I can’t miss.”

“But Kelly, I don’t give a shit about any of that,” I said.

After a little discussion, she agreed to a quick hand job with me finishing on her bare tits. She worked her way into the back seat, climbing over the center console and through the gap between the front seats. Then she sat in the back seat and crouched down to make herself less visible.

I exited the driver’s side and then sat in the back. Without a word, I unfastened my belt and then pushed my pants and underwear down to the floor. My penis was unimpressive, soft and drooped lazily to one side.

“You’re not even hard.” Kelly said, laying on her stomach and taking it into her well-manicured hands. “How long is this going to take?”

“Stop talking and stick out your tongue.” I said.

She stuck her tongue out and I stroked it, first with my finger and then with the head of my cock, which stiffened immediately. I pushed her head down on it, gently but firmly, and she started to suck in earnest. My hips started to thrust involuntarily, pushing my hardening cock deep into her throat, and she gagged and had to stop.

“I can’t.” Kelly said. “That’s too deep.”

“All right, let’s try again.” I said. She put her head down without objection and took my cock in her mouth once more, and I felt her tongue sliding long the length. My body wanted nothing more than to push its head deeper into the warm wetness of her mouth, but I did my best to control myself.

After a few minutes of ecstasy, I felt her back off and start licking and kissing the tip of my cock. At the same time, I pushed a hand between her legs, looking for her panties to push them aside. Two of my fingers slid into her pussy and she let out a squeal of surprise. It was warm and wet and ready for me.

I was sitting down and Kelly was on her stomach and facing the wrong way, but with a little direction I took her panties off and had both of us oriented correctly. She didn’t say a word about the fact that she had only agreed to a hand job and now I was going to fuck her in the back seat of my car, fuck her with no warning and protection, as if I didn’t care one bit if she could get pregnant from this.

Maybe she wanted my cock or maybe she was just trying to get the sex over with so she could go back inside and clean up and get to her next meeting. Either way, she spread her legs for me, as widely as the cramped back seat would allow.

I pushed the head of my cock into her tight pussy, not gently like a lover would, but forcefully and urgently, giving her no time to prepare for it. I thought she might cry out or even scream - some girls do - but instead Kelly just whimpered. As I fucked her cunt fast and hard, I saw a lone tear fall from her left eye and slide down the side of her face. She wasn’t used to this rough and cruel treatment, and for a moment I felt a little sorry for her. This wasn’t something that she had asked for.

“I’m almost done,” I told her. She couldn’t respond. My thrusts were harder, faster, and deeper, and the noises coming from her now sounded lower and softer.

I reached down with my hands and pulled her tight butt into my pelvis, and from the way that her body was trembling I could tell that she knew exactly what was going to happen next. Then I grunted involuntarily and then rode my wave of pleasure and release as I forced my cum deep into her cunt, and I felt her hips rock in response, her body seeking its own pleasure from me, her desperate moan filling the car. . She wasn’t ready to orgasm, she just wasn’t close enough, but I knew that she could feel her desire building. If I had been her lover, and a patient one, I could have brought her to climax in a few minutes, but instead I just mocked her disappointment.

“If you want to cum, do it yourself,” I said, getting up from between her legs and reaching for one of the clean towels that I kept in the back seat.

Her hand drifted between her legs, but just for a second, and then she took the other towel and used it to clean herself. She found her panties on the floor of the car and put them back on.

I pushed the tablet into her hands. “You need to sign this before you go.”

“All right.” Kelly said quietly. She paged through the document and then looked at me in surprise. “This is an employment agreement,” she said. “With a non-disclosure.”

I didn’t answer her, and just waited for her to click the icon to initial each page and then sign the entire document electronically. She did, and I took the tablet from her, countersigned the form, and submitted it.

I put on my own underwear and pulled up my pants and fished a business card from the front pocket. “Don’t bother going back to your office. This is where you work now.”

“Crescent Banking and Investments.” Kelly read aloud. “Crescent Drive, Beverly Hills. I’m working for a bank?”

“You have an appointment at ten on Monday morning.” I said. “Ask for Shannon.”

I called Shannon while I was driving down Sunset, about fifteen minutes away from the office. Shannon was one of the first group of recruits, having joined Crescent just over four years ago. The timing was important because our women’s employment contracts had a five year term, which meant that by the end of the year, Shannon would be free to leave the company and go her own way. Her legal captivity under threat of Federal prosecution would be over.

Or she could choose to stay, to remain with the company that kept her on a metaphorical leash, and in some cases, a literal one, for so many years. And as strange as that possibility sounded, I was hopeful that she would make that choice.

Shannon was assigned to me when I first joined the company two and a half years ago to be my personal assistant, an expansive job description which included taking care of my every need. After my divorce I was emotionally raw, alternating between anger and depression. While there were times that I lavished her with affection, there were many others where I was coldly indifferent or even deliberately cruel.

She had every reason to hate, fear, or just despise me, having seen me at my worst and my weakest. And yet, she still seemed to care for me - perhaps she even loved me.

Even after she was promoted to integration manager and no longer my assistant, she still came to my house on weekends while my son Aaron was there to help with the household - preparing meals and doing laundry. And on those nights she would fall asleep in my arms, drifting into dreamland with her naked body pressed tightly against mine.

Shannon also had a perfect British accent, the kind that sounded sexy and well-educated even if she was just reading a shopping list. I enjoyed hearing it so much that sometimes I found myself stringing her along in conversation just to spark her curiosity and make her ask me questions.

“I finished with Kelly D.,” I told her over the phone. “Heading to the office now.”

“And did you enjoy yourself?” Shannon asked.

“It’s not the worst part of my job.” I said. “And she seemed to enjoy it too, at least towards the end. But I left her unsatisfied.”

“That’s one of the cruelest things you can do to a woman.” Shannon said. “To use her body and then leave her with only her desire.”

“I know.” I said. “Cruelty is in the job description.”

“I expect it was quite a humiliating experience for her.” Shannon said.

“It was.” I said. “You love hearing about me fucking other women, don’t you?”

“You know that I do, Michael.” Shannon said. Shannon was the only one who called him Michael - to everyone else he was either Mickey or Mick.

“What if I didn’t tell you anything?” I asked. “Would that be cruel?”

“Obviously.” Shannon said.

“There is something I wanted to talk to you about, Shannon. I had a meeting with Ron this morning. You’ve done an exceptional job with SPARK.”

“Thank you.” Shannon said.

SPARK was a family of high frequency trading algorithms, and Shannon was in charge of its operations. It made the company a million dollars a day when the market was quiet, and several times that much when there was turmoil. It was one of the most profitable and important projects in the company.

“If you choose to stay, we want to be able give you a path to a partnership.” I said. “That’s an ownership stake in the firm, with mid- six figure annual bonuses.”

“Oh.” Shannon said. “Wow.”

“Of course, I took some credit for your success.” I said. “After all, I spent a lot of time and effort training you.”

”Yes, I remember.” Shannon said. “And I appreciate all of it.”

“You’re welcome.” I said. “And now we need to see if you can also train someone.”

“Train whom?” Shannon asked. “And for what precisely?”

“Two new assistants, for starters. One for me, to replace Elle, and one for you.” I said.

“Ah!” Shannon said, surprised. “That sounds like fun.”

“Shannon, make sure you take this seriously.” I said. “Having an assistant isn’t just about getting your dick sucked. We need to give them each the equivalent of a top master’s degree in eight to ten months and then rotate them into another position. And their success or failure in that new position is a direct reflection on you.“

“Of course.” Shannon said. “Two assistants! We should get started right away.”

“Are you coming over to the house tonight?” I asked. “We need to make good selections and I don’t know the new recruits all that well.”

“Aside from fucking them,” Shannon said.

“Yes, aside from that,” I said.

“Michael?” Shannon asked. “May I ask you something?”

“Yes?” I asked.

“Why are you asking me to come over to your house, rather than just telling me to?” Shannon asked. “Is that because I’m moving into management?”

“Isn’t this better?” I asked. “Giving you the choice?”

“I don’t know. It’s different.” Shannon said. “I never asked you to give me a choice.”

“Shannon, come over to my house tonight.’ I said. “Bring some good champagne and wear the red dress and the black boots that I like. And nothing else.”

“Yes, Michael.” Shannon said.

I disconnected the call just as I passed the familiar Beverly Hills sign on Wilshire. Then I put on some music, but didn’t pay much attention to it because I was thinking about the other thing Ron had told me in the meeting.

“We pushed Shannon hard, Mick,” he had said. “And when you’re pushed you get stronger, and smarter. She could be either a great asset to this company, or a serious liability. This thing where she pretends she's your girlfriend? It could all be an act, you know. And you should figure that out sooner, rather than later"