Life was good for Paul Smythe, he seemed to his friends to be the model of success for Generation X. 28 years old, six feet tall and handsome, beautiful women usually found him attractive.
His career as an accountant was one of rapid career progression and he had been head hunted by Acclaim Industrial as a senior accountant. When he was recruited he had been promised the position of Chief Financial Officer when Jim Brown retired after two more years. Time had passed and Jim's retirement was now coming up at the end of the next month.
An excellent salary and bonuses meant he owned a luxury bachelor apartment, had the German car and all the toys. The directors of Acclaim Industrial were pleased with their selection. Very bright and hardworking, Paul met all his targets and more. He wasn't in the slightest bit arrogant and was well liked by all in the company; those above him and those who worked for him.
In his private life he was seldom wiithout female company. Almost always beautiful, intelligent and from the "better" families. The photographers for the society pages of the sunday magazines often looked out for him as he and his partner of the night were always photogenic.
But he wasn't a society buffoon. He kept in contact with his family, visting his parents at least once a week and his brother and sister and nieces often stayed with him. He kept a close knit circle of true friends, rather than than being a social gladfly.
Jim Brown handed Paul a job application form.
"Paul, you know the rules, all senior positions must be made on the basis of an open selection process. Part of our transparancy policy, we will be advertising my job outside.
"Just a formality in your case. All the directors respect you and like you. And I'm Chairman of the Selection Committee. So, you have no worries at all."
Paul knew the process, in fact believed in it. He wasn't concerned at all. No-one could match his track record and specialist knowledge of the company.
He filled out the form and went through the interviews. At the interview with the Selection Committee he was greeted warmly. The CEO said that they were looking forward to the contribution he would make.
Two weeks later Jim called Paul into his office and asked him to sit down. Jim had difficulty looking at him squarely in the eye.
"Bad news, I'm sorry Paul. The committee's decided to run with another candidate."
Paul felt as though he had been hit in the stomach with a sledge hammer.
For the first time in his life he was a failure. Never before had he not got something he really wanted.
"Who has got the job?"
"Sally Whitehead. She is in pretty much the same position as you at our biggest competitor."
"A woman!" He vaguely recalled her name but hadn't met her.
"It was a very tough choice. But look at her C.V."
Paul could see that her qualifications were slightly better than his and that her career with top companies had been excellent.
Then he saw her age. 26
Not only a woman, but younger! The sense of failure was making his mind blur.
"You can see her qualifications and career are outstanding. It was a tough choice, but in the end the committee felt it would be good for our company to have new blood, some fresh ideas."
He didn't say that the committee didn't want to risk a sexual discrimination case.
"Sally will be coming in first thing the day after tomorrow to meet the staff. It would be best if you were here for that."
Jim could see the devastation Paul's face. "Look take the afternoon off if you feel like it."
"No thanks Jim, I'm OK," said Paul.
But heart was aching when left the Jim's office and saw his colleagues. He was dreading their looks of sympathy when they were told.
At 4pm he left, bought two bottles of vodka, first the first time got totally blind drunk. and passed out in his own vomit on his bathroom floor.
He phoned Jim the next morning to say he wasn't feeling well.
"That's OK, but please make sure you are here tomorrow morning to meet Sally."
The next morning he went into Jim's office to meet Sally. She stood and held out her hand. "Paul, its a pleasure to meet you."
Paul was used to the company of extremely beautiful women. Sally was right up there. Tall, maybe 5 feet nine, black shoulder length hair. She was wearing a business suit, but the knee length skirt was tight showing wonderful calves and the shape of wonderful thighs.
She could be a model if she wasn't an accountant
Her perfect, oval face was friendly.
"A pleasure for me too Sally, and congratulations on your appointment." They shook hands.
"Thank you. Jim has been showing me your systems and organisation. Like him, I think they are excellent. Please don't think I will be coming here to tell you how to do your job.
"And Jim has also said how much he has valued your knowledge and advice. I want us to work as a team as well and will need your contribution."
As he walked away he knew that she would live to her word. No female dragon out on an ego trip here. But he also sensed the sympathetic looks from his staff and wished he was invisible.
The next morning he again awoke in a pile of drunken vomit. Fortunately it was Saturday.
Sally commenced her new position a couple of weeks later. She was as good as her word; respected Paul's professionalism, welcomed his advice even if it contained corrections of some of her ideas. Paul respected her for this and respected her abilities.
But when he went into her office he could hear a voice:
"Look, that fucking bitch is in your office."
"Look, that fucking slut is sitting in your chair."
And when her new company car arrived, it was a brand new, bigger luxury version of his:
"That slut is driving your car."
The obvious solution was to apply for other jobs. But he found that positions he should easily been offered didn't come his way. He blamed it on the stigma of missing out on Sally's position.
"Look that fucking cunt has fucked up your career."
But prospective employers were more put off by his lack of confidence and an unmotivated personal presentation.
His family and friends noticed the change. They tried to help, but the more they tried, the more he resented their sympathy. He started to avoid them.
His relationship ended with Amanda.
"Paul, darling, you are so unhappy these days. Perhaps you should see a doctor."
"Mind your own business, cunt."
And so his social life disintergrated. Friday and Saturday nights were spent with his new found friends, the bottles of vodka or by himself at the casino on the poker machines.
Although he kept his drinking to Fridays and Saturdays his work performance went downhill fast. Sally called in Jim Brown for his advice and at first he didn't believe it. But she showed him missed deadlines, careless errors, complaints from his staff about rudeness. They agreed a strategy.
Sally called him to her office.
"Paul there are some serious issues we need to discuss."
"Sure Sally," he said.
But the voice inside him said: "Your chair, your office, your car, your salary increase. The fucking bitch has taken the lot."
His sex life was now restricted to cheap prostitutes. He looked at her beauty, her slim figure.
The voice said,"Look at her, the stuck up bitch, she needs a good fuck."
Sally pointed out all the problems she had shown to Jim. She was aware of his disappointment at not getting her job.
"Paul," she said. "You have been a valuable employee here. Everyone repected you. But even you must realize you are not meeting your own standards."
He nodded, his rational mind accepted her logic.
But the voice said, "You don't have to take this from a 26 year old slut."
Sally was watching carefully. She and Jim had agreed that if Paul showed any sign of motivation, this talk would be sufficient.
But he looked at her sullenly.
She pulled out a document from a drawer.
"Paul, this is a formal written warning I'm afraid. Unless you meet the standards we expect, we will have to let you go."
His rational mind took over and he got another job. But at a far lower position than he had at Acclaim. Acclaim paid him off rather than having him work out his notice.
As he walked out for the last time past her office the voice chanted.
"Your desk, your office, your car, your salary. That whore needs a good fuck."
His new job was hell. The accountant he reported to was stupid. That accountant knew Paul's background, saw him as a threat and used his position to taunt him.
The reduced salary meant he couldn't keep up his repayments on his apartment or car and he sold both. He rented a dingy studio in a dingy part of town.
But each evening he drove his delapidated banger to Acclaim Industrial and, from a distance, watched Sally as she walked to the carpark. Beautiful smile, beautiful face, lovely slim body. She laughed with her colleagues as she went to her car.
"Your car. Fucking whore."
His drinking became worse and he often arrived at work hung over. The pathetic accountant took delight in drawing out the dismissal process, claiming how distressed he was, how Paul had failed his trust and later gloated to his friends how he had kicked the fucker out.
Paul got a job as a barman on the late shift in a dingy pub in his dingy part of town.
Each night before he went to work he would drive to Acclaim Industrial and, unobserved, would watch Sally, her laughter, the sway of her slim hips, her figure.
And the voice worked inside his head.
His drinking and his gambling losses were destroying the remaining cash from the sale of his apartment.
His rational mind and the voice merged into one in his brain.
Sally was the reason for his destitution. Sally was the cause of his downfall. Sally laughed and smiled and swayed her hips.
The whore needed a good fuck!
Sally went to the gym at 6pm each Tuesday and Friday. It was an upmarket gym with a carpark underneath. From a distance Paul observed her behaviour. She was an accountant, stuck to a routine. Always tried to park close to the liftwell, but sometimes the parks were taken and she had to park behind where the lighting wasn't so good. When she had finished she always put her gym gear in the trunk, never on the back seat.
The security on that new German car was too good. He had to do something about that. Over the next month he spent much of his remaining cash carefully. He stayed off the booze. He was totally focused.
On Tuesday evening when Sally came out of the gym she cursed. Someone had side-swiped her car, badly crushing the front wing. She was able to drive home and next day at work arranged for the panel shop to repair it. A week, they said, and gave her an old runabout as a courtesy car.
On Friday she had to park behind the liftwell. She did her pilates, came out, tossed her gear in the boot, never noticing a figure on the floor behind the front seats.
She drove out of the car park, then the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. She glanced and saw a stocking covered face over her shoulder. A knife was flashed in front of her face.
"Do as I say and don't say a word unless you want your throat cut, cunt. "
He directed her through a maze of side streets.
"Shift to the passenger seat, whore. Don't even think of running away."
Sally shifted across and in a trice the black figure was in the driving seat. A hood was thrown over her head. Before she realised what was happening her wrists were grasped and she felt some handcuffs click around them.
"Don't even think of talking slut." He stroked the back of the knife blade across her throat.
He drove for half an hour, constantly changing direction to confuse her. When the car stopped Sally had no idea where she was.
She was pulled out of the car, led into a building and still blinfolded was pulled upstairs. Tears of anxiety were now flowing under the hood.
Through three doors then she heard a lock close. The handcuffs were removed and so was the hood. He stood in front her, that frightening stocking covered face, She saw he was wearing overalls and plastic goves. No DNA. He had her handbag which contained her cell phone
She looked around. There was a single sized bed with a couple of old blankets, some aluminium tressles and a ladder. A large screen LCD was incongruous. No windows but a door opposite the one they had entered from. He nodded and she opened the door and saw a basic bathroom, toilet and shower. Again, no window. A hot water kettle was on a bench, some tea bags and underneath a small fridge. Only milk.
"The TV works. I shall be away for three hours. You can scream for help if you like. No-one will hear."
He walked out, she heard the door being locked and bolts drawn. She was tough, she didn't sit down and cry. She examined every inch of her prison, but found there was no escape. She made some tea and lay on the bed thinking.
Paul drove her car across town to a small warehouse he had rented paying cash, no questions asked. He took out his replacement car, an equally delapidated banger to the previous. It had cost $900 which he had paid for in cash and the dealer didn't care that he couldn't read the name and address on the transfer form which were ficticious anyway.
With Sally's car hidden in the warehouse, he drove back and parked three blocks from his destination. He then walked, the streets were deserted but he still avoided the street lights.
His room was outside Sally's prison. It was almost as sparsely furnished, but the was a basic kitchen and a notebook computer. He took two pre-prepared meals from the refrigerator heated them in the microwave, then replaced the stocking over his face.
"Eat this, slut. You'll need it. You are going to be a long time here." She saw he had only given her a flimsy plastic spoon to eat with.
He then left, she heard the lock and the bolts.
It was a long sleepless night for Sally. She became increasingly desperate. He had hardly touched her, but his disgusting language was full of menace. She realised how much planning had gone to getting her here. She realised the damage to her car was no accident.
Despite her will-power she occassionally broke into sobs.
The next morning he gave her a basic breakfast. "Eat, bitch."
Two hours later he returned with his computer and switched on the TV.
"Watch carefully, this will be interesting."
The screen flickered into life. Sally gasped. There was her parent's house. The picture panned around, she could see leaves moving in the trees. But perhaps it was old footage.
"Tell me the name of any of your parent's neighbours, cunt."
"The Jacksons." The Jacksons lived three houses down the street.
The picture panned to the left and showed the Jacksons' house. The footage was live!
"Watch carefully, cock sucker."
The picture now moved more slowly and slightly more jerkily, up into the trees behind the Jacksons' house. Then zoomed in.
There was a thrush perched on a branch. Closer the picture zoomed and then Sally noticed a red dot in centre screen. It settled on the thrush's body.
"Bye bye birdie." And the thrush exploded in a red mist.
"Marvellous what you can get over the internet, isn't it?"
Sally realised what the situation. Opposite her parent's house was a public park and at the front were a lot of thick bushes. This monster had some remotely controlled camera and gun hidden in the bushes.
Then she gasped in horror. Her parents were keen gardeners and on a weekend would spend most of their time in the garden. And even worse their grandchildren, her brother's children, were staying there.
"The prison sentence for murder isn't much more than for rape and kidnap. That's if they find me."
"Obey all my instructions immediately or your parents will die."
She knew he was telling the terrible truth. And the word "rape" confirmed what she already expected. She tried her only weapon.
"Paul, I know it's you. Why are you doing this to me?"
He took off the stocking mask. His face seemd sad, but his eyes were hard. She saw that he had aged 10 years in the last few months. She had heard of his downward spiral.
"Because you, you cunt, sit in my chair." She didn't understand.
"You, you cunt, sit in my office. " Now she did.
"You bitch, you have my car, my salary, my career!"
"But Paul I was entitled to apply for the job."
He walked over to her, his face six inches from hers. His now gloveless finger traced around her lips.
"Such a lovely mouth. You stole my life by sucking Jim Brown's cock."
It was completely untrue, but Sally knew it was pointless to argue.
"I have shown myself. Now you. Every five minutes take off one garment. Your shoes, earings and watch each count as one."
Sally quickly worked out she would be naked in less than an hour.
"Time starts now."
He moved his camera so that the picture was of her parents' front door. With a mixture of fear and loathing she took off an earing.
He took no interest at first. He spent time setting up the tressles, attaching them securely to bolts in the floor. He then secured the aluminium ladder horizontally between them. The height was about a foot below her waist.
Sally couldn't work out what he was doing, but knew that whatever it was it would be terrible for her.
After half an hour her shoes, earings, ring and watch were off. Now she was left with T shirt, jeans, bra and knickers.
"Paul, please, please no."
"Now you know how I felt. When I left that bastard Jim Brown's office after he told me you had stolen my life, a voice was screaming in my mind, 'Jim, please, please,no.''"
She took off her T shirt. Now his attention was focused on her. He stood a foot in front of her, his cold eyes roaming her face and almost naked torso. She felt his breath on her face
Next her jeans.
Roughly he stroked her inner thighs.
"That bastard Jim Brown liked these around his face I'll bet."
Now her bra. She opened her mouth for one last plea, but saw the look in his eyes and knew it was useless.
She stood there, her beautiful firm breasts jutting.But in this situation she looked childishly defenceless.
She put her hands up to protect herself, but he pulled them away and painfully tweaked her nipples.
Finally the flimsy knickers. With only scant protection from her neatly trimmed pubes she was open and defenceless.
He came to her and thrust two fingers painfully into her vagina.
"That bastard Brown's cock came here whenever he wanted."
He left her there, fully exposed, legs slightly apart as he worked on his computer. Sally was horrified to see that her nephew and niece were playing on the lawn. The red dot stopped on her niece's chest
She started to cry uncontrollably.
"I cried when I was sacked three times. I cried when I lost my apartment. Cry cunt. It makes me feel better."
He grasped her right arm and before she realized had handcuffed her wrist to a rung of the horizontal ladder.
He then grabbed her left hand, pushed her down and handcuffed that wrist to the ladder also.
Sally was now trapped on the ladder. Each arm was outstretched, so that her shoulders were forced down onto the ladder, her head was extended over the far side. As the ladder was low she was aware that her bum was in pointed the air, fully exposing her genitals.
She was humiliated, vulnerable and his to do with as he wished.
He moved behind her, pushed her feet apart and crudely examined her with his fingers. He parted her outer labia, painfully squeezed her inner labia. He tweaked her clitoris. What was usually a source of pleasure was a source of agony. Three fingers harshly went into her vagina stretching her painfully. But she did notice that they had some lubricant.
It was not generosity to her. With what Paul intended, he didn't want his cock rubbed raw by a dry cunt.
He banged his cock into her, hard into her cervix. She grunted and held onto the rungs of the ladder to brace herself. He grabbed her hips for balance and pounded harder and deeper. Her vagina was bruised as never before.
There is a fiction in porn that rape victims suddenly find the experience exciting and sexual. But it is a cruel fiction. Sally was in agony, humiliated, dehumanised and terrified.
He came with a grunt. Slapped her hard on the buttock and released her.
She picked up a blanket and huddled in a ball, crying uncontrollably.
He again worked on his computer. She saw that her parents were having morning tea on the lawn. The red dot hovered between her mother's eyes.
His erection restored he led her back to the ladder. Numbly she offered no resistance.
But this time his fingers probed her anus. Although they were lubricated she groaned in pain as two fingers probed her bowel. Then his cock plunged in. She had always refused anal sex and the experience was worse than her worst nightmare. Her bowel was stretched and ruthlessly ravaged, the pain seemed to go as far as her stomach.
Mercifully he came and again released her. She retreated to the only security she had, the blanket.
While he was waiting for his erection to recover, he adjusted the ladder so that it was lying at a height just below his waist.
He handcuffed her again, this time with her arms not quite so wide, giving her slightly more freedom of movement. He went to the other side of the ladder, his erection in front of her face.
"Suck my cock, cock sucker."
"If you even think of biting, your mother will die, then you."
"And try hard. I will get bored if I don't come after 20 minutes and might need to get some excitement with your niece."
She now had freedom to move her head, with her arms not so widely stretched. She knew his threats were true, and despite the repugnancy used all her skills. He banged the back of her throat ruthlessly, but eventually came, to her relief for her niece and to her disgust as his spunk went into her throat.
He released her then left the room. Sally sat huddled in her blanket crying uncontrollably and rocking on her haunches.
After an hour he brought her another heated meal. "Eat slut." But she didn't
Three hours later the whole brutal, ghastly proceedure was repeated. As he had shot his load so often she couldn't make him come with her mouth. Horrified she watched as the red dot traced over her neice.
But for the first time he smiled. "She's as beautiful as my own niece."
He left her again, then at 10 pm came in fully dressed. He took her to the outer room and showed her the food.
"There's enough there to last you. I have left a letter with a lawyer to post to the police telling where you are in two weeks. They may find you first."
He left. In the darkness he collected his remotely controlled gun and left it in the warehouse with her car. He then picked up his few belongings, went to the airport, and through a rambling trip ended up in a remote mining town in the Amazon jungle.
The police found Sally after a week, huddled, crying, rocking, still naked under her blanket. She never fully recovered. Acclaim Industrial gave her extended medical leave and a less demanding position when she returned. Gradually her career recovered but never reached the success everyone had expected.
In her private life she became withdrawn and seldom smiled. She moved back to live with her parents who even years later would find her huddled and crying in the same blanket.
The police and public were horrified at the brutal crime and an extensive manhunt both locally an internationally was mounted. But the police in the Amazon jungle were too busy to worry about a crime half the world away.
However Sally's family didn't forget. Wealthy friends, and indeed Acclaim Industial contributed to a fund to hire a leading private detective agency. They tracked Paul to his remote town and Sally's father and two brothers caught the next flight.
They found him in a drunken stupor in a tin hovel and dragged him for an hour into the jungle. When Paul came too, he found he was naked, spreadeagled on his back with his feet and hands tethered to the ground.
They castrated him, shoved his cock in his mouth, gagged him and left him.
It took Paul about half a day to die in agony, from loss of blood and being eaten alive by soldier ants.