Zoe - Tempted and Corrupted (Patreon)

(Damn! Where Is The Zipper? -  Interludio Movimento 2-3 - Divertimento 1)

Part 1

It had been a tough time, but she had made it, Zoe had infiltrated "The Party". Six months of hard training to get the look she needed. Etiquette classes, and many others with a very strict ballet teacher, who had also taught her how to really walk like a lady in her heels. Later doing disgusting jobs all over the world as a companion girl, so that the women and men of the murky world that hides behind politics would get to know her. . . Zoe had visited presidential palaces, scandalously oppulently decorated residences for the rich in many so-called democratic states, where people starved to death in the streets. . .

At first it was from this job, that she became addicted to caffeine, but now, to be able to hold on to it, she took stronger stimulants. And the companies she had to convince to like and trust her, they made her never leave the house, without a minimum of several tubes of cocaine. Alcohol and other drugs became part of her strict diet, which her style teacher even thought was okay, since after she caught her taking a small dose, she realized that she was complaining less.

She would have preferred to have done it like in the spy movies. A sensual dress, simple but elegant, of discreet black color, not to attract too much attention, with a hidden camera and microphone in the headdress that she would have worn anchored in her hair. Which would have been held together by a pick up lodged in her hair, which would get the most out of her beautiful neck.

However, when her contact had called her to confirm that she had managed to sneak her into "The Party", she would have expected that job coming from her modelling agency. Instead it came from a different company, saying she would be introduced as a kitten-waitress at the party. At first she was about to strangle her contact with her own hands or pay a gang to rape her and then dump what was left of her into the city’s main sewage canal, when she heard the specifics of the job. But now, she had come to realize the advantages of being the prostitute who had to serve the drinks.

Although the “waitress" uniforms, not to call them directly slutsuits, consisted of a transparent, flesh-colored latex catsuit, which didn’t leave much to the imagination and even less room to hide a recorder and a camera. The kitten’s tail was the best place, since nobody would examine it closer, especially when they used it as a dildo. There would be more than enough women asking for her services.

At first the suit seemed uncomfortable, it felt like it was two sizes smaller than her regular one. Also, the corset and the collar around her neck were quite tight, the first more than the second. At the time, she was thankful that her feet were not in shoes with tiny heels, but in wedges, also a good place to hide something, but seeing her companions who wore expensive Zapaos for over 2000 Euro the pair for cheap. . . she also would have preferred a pair of the stillettos worn by the other waitresses.

If that hadn’t been enough, first, before doning the suit, she had no choice but to smear an oily slime, that she got from the minions of the hostess, over her skin. It was of a strange odor, and was said to have an aphrodisiac effect. Something that later she thanked for, because that slime, made her care that everyone got his or her hands on her and she didn’t have to disguise her disgust with a false excitement.

Then when she went on to put on the suit, she found, although it had a sleeve for her sex, it wasn’t exactly with a condom function. And to top it off, the minion of her hostess also gave her a body, shaped like a monoquini complete with a specially shaped, wide and long, anal plug.

That party "The Queen” was throwing had brought together many of the CEOs of the world’s most shady businesses and companies. That character of the murky part of society had newly emerged, she had come seemingly out of nowhere. More than one person to whom she had offered her body, had hinted things to her, almost in whispers, for fear of being overheard. But only later, after many well served clients, some who now had enough confidence in Heidi, which was Zoe’s pseudonym, started to open up. Many things were said about "The Queen", but what she heard the most was, “She and her coven of witches. . .”

Apparently "The Queen” before becoming "The Queen", had been a simple secretary to the owner of a pharmaceutical company and several sub-companies dedicated to sexual health and safety. That was the only thing she got to find out about this “Witch-Queen.” She never got to know her name, her records were erased, even the government records, even the paper files. . . nothing. In the company mentioned, nobody remembered her, Human Resources Headquarters had no record that the owner had ever had a female secretary. . . a ghost. . .

The sons and daughters of the rich, along with chemistry magnates, executives and politicians, generals and chancellors, accompanying pimps and madames. . . Everyone that revolves around a democratic government, and you never get to see, could be found at "The Party". All the people who really wielded the power behind the scenes. Zoe even had to agree to play with the wife of the president of Spain, who was giving a show to the son of another former Italian president.

There was a lot of security to pass to get in, but there wasn’t a tough looking bully inside, or a clearly distinguishable group of lackeys who were supposed to maintain the security inside. There was no one guarding a hallway or a staircase or any other access to a room inside that mansion. There were not even cameras inside, except in the access area for the service personnel. This was to be expected, the high and mighty don’t like leaving evidence. Zoe laughed and it scared her at the same time. That said a lot, although it didn’t explain how her two previous companions, who had tried to uncover things about this special world, had disappeared.

Right now, Zoe was trying to remember how she was going to get back to the party area. . . She had had sex with her pimp, aka director of the modeling agency, again. . . whom she hated for it. Worse, she couldn’t stop her pussy from controlling her every time she thought of him. The aphrodisiac effect of that oily slime had her fully in its grip.

His strong hands, his muscular and tattooed body, his manly and intimidating voice, those grey eyes that were the only thing left visible behind a mask, the fleshy lips that hid a long, lewd tongue. She thought she hated the submissive role, but that second time. . . she had to beg and get fucked by five other people, men and women, so that HE would use her one more time.

Her legs were still shaking, her sex overflowing with juices, but still hungry for more. . . she tried to think, while the echo of his voice echoed in her head, calling her Heidi. . . She didn’t want it to, but it was like that sweet melody that got into the heads and never ceases to resonate. The sound of her saliva, while swallowing hard, was the only thing that silenced for a moment that name, Heidi. . . that identity that her body was pushing her forward to. But with each sip of saliva, she tasted a moment more the taste of his manhood.

"Fucking aphrodisiac and this damned suit. . .", she said pulling the latex away from her waist. . .

And she felt that the latex and the oily slime were at the same time, pulling away from her skin. When she released it, not only did the suit return to its place, covering her once again perfectly, otherwise, the whole suit seemed to shift and move and get a little tighter. She was pleasantly surprised and a moment later she repeated the action, this time pulling on both sides of her hips. She loved that feeling, it was as if the suit was claiming her both as its guest and its prisoner. The heat of her body was rekindled like a fire. . .

Suddenly she heard a conversation coming from an only partly closed door to her right. . . it was the voice of a man who was asking for time and understanding, without even showing supplication or self-humiliation. And then there was the other. . . that voice. . . she recognized it right away. Zoe glued herself to the wall so as not to be discovered as she desperately tried to wrestle with her heat and her desire to become Heidi once again. She had to keep a clear head, she needed to be Zoe, no matter what her pussy said.

In that room was "The Queen" and she was talking to someone about her plans. . .

To be continued. . .