The Hacker and the Movie Mogul

[jjaygee58]

The Hacker, an Introduction

“A manifesto to the network of powerful women on behalf of the people of the United States:

Hear what I have to say, for I will not say it again. For too long, good Americans have been forced to accept the unfairness of you, the decadent class. The 1 percent steal from the rest of us, hoarding all for themselves. The politicians are hopelessly corrupt and make laws only to benefit themselves and their supporters. Attorneys protect their wealthy clients with no desire to bring justice to the country.

No more! I have a set of skills that I will use to make things right, to stand up for the common people. Hear me now! If you have power and do wrong, I will find you. I will hack into your computer. I will learn your secrets. I will make alliances with those around you. I will humiliate you in ways that you will find unimaginable.

This is your final warning. Heed me.”

--The Hacker

“Can you believe this crap?” Stephanie Roth, president of the Bank of the United States and perhaps the most powerful woman in America, wrote with a sneer. “These idiots always think they can threaten me, us? Please! I don’t have a crack team of computer experts and an impregnable firewall for nothing. We run our companies, our firms, the government. This ‘hacker’ and his friends in the leecher class can go screw themselves. The whole pack of them are worthless.”

With that manifesto of her own completed, Stephanie hit send. Across the country, her email popped up on screens, and the nation’s richest and most powerful women—a group known as the “network”—smiled knowingly. Their leader was on top of this issue, as always. Ms. Roth, as most of them—dominant in their own right—called her, always protected their interests. It was indeed business as usual. Workers would report to them and cower if they made the slightest mistake. Ordinary people would fear going to jail or being bankrupted by frivolous lawsuits. The law would be bent to the will of the powerful. Life, if you had money, was good. And it would remain so, just as God or Ayn Rand, depending on your persuasion, intended.

Self-satisfied smiles from New York to L.A. marked women of power. Their smiles would have faded if they had seen Ms. Roth’s computer screen after she powered down and left for the night. A flicker, a whir, and the computer started, seemingly on its own. One prompt followed another and a screen popped up, showing Roth’s entire hard drive, her address book, her passwords, her correspondence, her “secret files,” everything being downloaded to a remote computer. Somewhere, reading feverishly, the Hacker smiled.




The Hacker and the Movie Mogul, Part 1

As president of the largest movie studio in the United States, Jennifer Johnston expected deference at every turn. She was perhaps the most powerful woman in L.A., and she knew it. She could crush dreams, destroy careers with the snap of her fingers. Her staff was used to nasty glares, cutting comments, and even summary firings. The “network” knew her for her sarcastic emails that skewered everyone in Hollywood, emails tinged with racism and class privilege.

Whatever her attitude, Jennifer was a beautiful woman. In her late thirties and well-endowed with shoulder-length auburn hair (that cost $300 every two weeks at the salon!), Jennifer still had the figure of a woman in her twenties. An hour in the gym every day, a sensible diet, and a discreet pair of spanx did the trick. “No one ever needs to know about that!” she’d sometimes think. Jennifer’s business suits were impeccable: expensive cloth, knee length, and curve hugging. She favored at least three-inch stiletto heels and Cervin silk nylons that had to be ordered from Europe. Men, even those who were rich and powerful enough to be in her class, stared at her, particularly her legs, and soaked in her beauty. She ignored them or humiliated them if they were beneath her.

And almost everyone was beneath her, especially her personal assistant, Peter, and her secretary, Nancy. Jennifer heaped abuse on everyone, but especially the two of them. They seethed about it, but could never say anything for fear of losing their jobs.

Jennifer, like every woman in the network, had no time or patience for games. That’s why the email from the Hacker aggravated her and made her scoff. “I know what you’ve continued to do to people, despite my warning to Stephanie Roth,” it said. “I know how you abuse your staff, how you mock them. I know the things you say about actors, other studio heads, even your neighbors. The time has come to pay the price. I will expose you, I will humiliate you, in ways you can only imagine. Your torment will be mercifully brief if you do exactly what I say.”

This guy (she was sure it was a guy) was just harassing her, just as he had done to Ms. Roth, Jennifer thought. He could make these odd threats, but they were empty. “You have nothing on me, you son of a b*tch,” she wrote in a reply email. “Don’t email me again, or I will have my security staff hunt you down.”

“Oh, but I do,” came the Hacker’s response. He then sent Jennifer her bank account numbers, copies of emails she had written about prominent people in and around Hollywood, and the mocking emails she had written about Peter and Nancy. Jennifer’s heart sank. “Please don’t expose me. I’ll be ruined,” she said. “What do I have to do?”

“I’ll email you later this evening. You will do exactly as I say,” wrote the Hacker. Jennifer trembled, thinking about what was to come, but simply wrote back, “OK.”




The Hacker and the Movie Mogul, Part 2

I don’t get it, Jennifer thought to herself. For all the Hacker’s bluster, his instructions were no big deal: “Wear what you usually do for your big company meeting this Friday, the heels, the nylons, the spanx. (Your receipts, by the way, make for interesting reading.) But don’t wear one of your power suits. Wear the one Nancy will have at your office.” Jennifer did as she was told; little did she know that Nancy and Peter had received emails with more nefarious instructions. Once the Hacker proved who he was by sending the information he had on Jennifer, they were happy do what he asked. In fact, they could hardly wait for the meeting.

Jennifer had butterflies in her stomach on Friday morning, wondering what the Hacker had in store. She put that out of her mind, though, as she dressed for work. She loved the sheer demi bra that boosted her already firm breasts and left the top half of her nipples peeking out. The slight rubbing on her silk blouses always kept her just slightly turned on during the workday. She loved that bra, especially when she was in charge of a large meeting. It kept her just a little on edge. Next were the incredibly silky Cervin thigh high stockings. Sometimes Jennifer wore tights, sometimes even stockings and a garter belt. But today she went with the lace top thigh highs in white. They erotically framed her neatly trimmed auburn hair (yes, carpet and d****s matched) down below. Then, the spanx. My God, they were tight, giving even Jennifer’s trim body a bit of a muffin top. But with her power suits they slimmed her just right in all the right places.

Usually Jennifer then slipped on one of her smartly tailored suits, but she knew the Hacker’s instructions. So instead she put on navy blue slacks, a white blouse, and ballet flats. Too casual for her work, but she could live with it until that idiot Nancy brought her suit. If she had been forced to tell the truth, Jennifer would have admitted she kind of liked the outfit; the sexy bra and nylons under this drab outfit was a naughty little secret just for her.

Jennifer spent the morning working from her office. It was hard to concentrate, wondering what the Hacker was going to do and having her sexy bra and stockings on under her pants and blouse. Late in the morning, Jennifer slipped off her flats to rub her silky stocking feet on the floor. They felt amazing, as only the finest stockings do, even more so when she massaged her feet with her hands. As Jennifer worked and rubbed, she chewed on the end of her pen. “It’s been a long time. . .,” she mused to herself as she thought about her ex-boyfriend Steve and nibbled a little more vigorously on her pen. “I wonder just what ‘expose’ and ‘humiliate’ means. . .”

Jennifer closed her eyes and while her left hand continued to rub her silky stocking feet (Steve was an idiot, like all men, but really good at some things. . .), her right drifted down to her lap. Oh, it’s been so long, she thought. She slowly unzipped her pants and reached in to massage herself. The chewing on the pen became a little more like sucking—teasing rather than vigorous—and the tight spanx became a frustration. They were silky enough that Jennifer could rub enough to feel it, but it wasn’t fully . . . satisfying. She did start to get a little damp, though, especially as she rubbed more vigorously.

Stroking her stocking feet and panties, sucking lasciviously on the pen, Jennifer was so lost in her reverie that she didn’t hear her office door open. “Um, Ms. Johnston,” Nancy said. Jennifer looked up with a start. She was behind her desk, so Nancy could not have seen all that she was doing, but the pen in her mouth and the hand motions were obvious.

“What do you want?” Jennifer snapped as she slammed the pen down. “I’m very busy!”

“I can see that,” Nancy said with a devious smile. “I just wanted to let you know that it’s time to dress for your meeting. I have your suit.”

“I’m always surprised when you do your job,” Jennifer sneered. “Leave the suit and I’ll change in a minute.”

“Sorry, Ms. Johnston. I have instructions from the Hacker. He said you’d know of him,” Nancy said with a smug grin. “I’m to go with you to the ladies room for you to change. We have to go now.”

“Fine,” Jennifer said as she looked down for her shoes. In her building frenzy, she had kicked them out from under her desk. Slightly embarrassed, Jennifer reached for her flats with one of her stocking feet. “We’re late,” Nancy said. “Leave your shoes.”

“What? I can’t do that!” Jennifer half shouted. “I’m an important, powerful woman here. I’m in charge. I can’t be walking around in my stockings like some tart or a child.”

“You can, and you will,” Nancy replied. “The Hacker said he knew you’d be difficult. I think it would be better for you if you didn’t fight with me.”

“Fine,” Jennifer said again, in even more of a shout. She stood up abruptly and quickly remembered that her zipper was down. Jennifer grabbed her shirttail and pulled it down to protect her modesty. My zipper’s down; what was I thinking?, she thought to herself.

Nancy didn’t say anything as she saw Jennifer’s flash of underwear, but she did smile to herself. Sure enough, the Hacker knew the psychology of the power women in the network. A threat to expose and humiliate the--words that alone could mean many things, but together had a sexual connotation--played on some part of their id. It left them sexually charged and susceptible to manipulation. This meeting was going to be good. After years of abusing everyone around her, Jennifer would get just what she deserved.



The Hacker and the Movie Mogul, Part 3

Jennifer followed Nancy to the ladies room. As she walked in her stocking feet, Jennifer noticed all her employees, her underlings as she thought of them, watching her. Some had quizzical looks, a couple of the men looked with a vague sexual interest, a few women had smirks on their faces. Maybe they were in on it, Jennifer thought. Whatever “it” is. “Get back to work,” she hissed at those who lingered too long on her odd state of dress. She was still the boss, you know.

When they got to the restroom, Jennifer went in one of the stalls and closed the door. “Hand me my suit, you dolt,” she barked at Nancy. “Just a moment, ma’am,” Nancy replied. “Please start taking your clothes off and I’ll have your suit ready for you in a moment.”

“Fine,” Jennifer retorted as she unbuttoned her pants. With the zipper down and the silky nylons on, it only took a second for Jennifer to drop her pants to her ankles and step out of them. As she disrobed, she vaguely thought she heard a sound, like a tear from the other side of the door. But Jennifer wasn’t concentrating too much, standing there in her stockings and her spanx, her nipples rubbing against her silk blouse, was rather distracting.

“Ms. Johnston,” Nancy said. “Please take off your blouse too. I have the one that you’re supposed to wear out here.” “Fine,” Jennifer said. She was saying that a lot. How, Jennifer wondered, was she losing control to the point that she was just agreeing to everything?

As Jennifer opened her blouse she thought she heard a murmured conversation outside the stall door. “Nancy,” she called. “What are you doing?” “Nothing, ma’am.” “Fine,” Jennifer said. “I’m down to my bra, panties, and nylons in here. I’m ready for my suit. Hand it over the door.”

Jennifer saw motion through the crack of the door and then the suit came over the top. But that wasn’t Nancy’s hand! It was hairy and masculine. Looking back to the side of the door, Jennifer saw someone peering in at her, as she stood there in her lingerie, her nipples showing, her silky thigh highs on display, her embarrassing, secret, spanx in full view. “Eek, oh my god!” Jennifer yelled as she threw her left hand over her breasts and her right over her crotch. She pushed her knees together and bent over at the waist. “Oh my God!” she shrieked again. “Peter, is that you?! What do you think you’re doing?! You can’t see me like this! Get the hell out of here or I’ll have you fired!” This was so humiliating, but truth be told, the wet spot on Jennifer’s panties wasn’t going away.

“Get dressed, Ms. Johnston,” Peter said, ignoring his boss’s cries but not taking his eyes from her fantastic body. It was impossible, but Jennifer tried to dress without showing too much skin. She kept looking at Peter with a mixture of embarrassment and anger as she struggled into her skirt. Her silky nylon feet on the floor nearly made her fall and she had to take her hand away from her breasts to steady herself. “Very nice,” Peter said quietly as he saw Ms. Johnston’s fine breasts. “Pig!” she hissed back. “You know, you wouldn’t be in this situation if you were nicer,” Peter said. “Now let’s go.”

Jennifer had her blouse, jacket, and skirt on when she opened the door, but no shoes. “Here, these are for you,” said Peter as he handed her a pair of open toe four inch strappy slides. They were so high and had so little material that Jennifer could barely stand in them or keep them on her feet with the slick nylons. “These aren’t appropriate,” she hissed. “Let’s go,” Peter said, opening the door and admiring the view as Ms. Johnston tottered past him on her heels. “It’s time for the meeting.”



The Hacker and the Movie Mogul, Part 4

Jennifer paused at the door of the board room. Drawing in a deep breath, she said to herself: I’m Ms. Johnston and I run this place. Jennifer held her head high and strode into the room. She tried to put on her haughtiest look, but the clacking of her scandalous high heels drew the attention of the dozen men and the women in the room to her silky stocking legs. Several of the men had mischievous grins on their faces, like they knew what was coming.

Jennifer ignored their looks and stared each man in the eye, trying to assert her power. Standing taller and puffing out her chest, however, proved to be a bad idea. Everyone in the room heard the rip, rip, rip of stitches giving way under stress. Jennifer froze. What was that, what seam just split! she thought frantically to herself. Trying to be subtle, she glanced down and saw her blouse just starting to split along her cleavage and, reaching behind, felt a gap in her skirt. Oh my God, Jennifer thought to herself. This is so humiliating! Everyone’s going to see my bra and spanx if I’m not careful! Nothing could be worse than that, she thought. She was wrong, but she thought it nonetheless. The titters of laughter were obvious in the room as Jennifer walked mincingly to her seat at the head of the table.

Jennifer started the meeting and tried to assert herself, to make everything like normal. She snapped at a V.P. (a “dolt,” she called him), dressed down an accountant for a mistake in addition, ordered Nancy to “for God’s sake finally do her job” and bring the pitcher of iced Evian that she always had during meetings. The last was one step too far. “Of course, Ms. Johnston,” Nancy said to the hushed room, with a grimace on her face. “It’s time,” she whispered to Peter who nodded.

“Peter,” Ms. Johnston ordered, “dim the lights and start my power point presentation. For some reason I’m the only one who can show this ‘team’ how to get the company back on track.” Peter stepped behind Jennifer to turn down the lights and get the clicker so he could change the slides for Ms. Johnston.

With the lights dimmed and everyone’s attention held by the screen and the boss’s diatribe, Peter made his move. From behind, he grabbed Jennifer’s wrists and pulled her hands behind the back of the chair. “Peter, what are you doing?!” she hissed. “What the Hacker told me to do, so you better just deal with it,” he replied quietly but firmly. Jennifer was clearly angry, but obeyed. As she kept discussing her presentation slides, Peter slipped the cuffs of her blouse and suit jacket over her hands and knotted them together. “Peter,” she hissed, “stop it! I can’t move!” “Just keep doing your presentation,” he replied, as he forwarded to the next slide. Oh my God, what’s happening? Jennifer thought to herself. She had never noticed how strong Peter was before and the thought of his powerful hands controlling her excited her here in this public setting. Thank God no one could see her spanx.

As Jennifer was finishing her presentation, she heard a familiar click click sound. “Is that a stapler?” she asked Peter. “Don’t worry, I’m just finishing up,” he replied. Jennifer could feel her skirt getting oddly tight across her thighs, but couldn’t imagine why. My God, I feel like I’m being tied up in public, Jennifer thought to herself, her excitement building.

“Ahem, Ms. Johnston,” Nancy whispered a second time. “What!” Jennifer snapped under her breath. “Are you OK? I told you that I have your water and you didn’t respond. And you’re shifting around a lot in your seat, rubbing your thighs together. And it’s hard to tell but you look really flushed.” Oh my God, Jennifer thought to herself, immediately stopping her legs (man, those silky nylons felt good rubbing together though). What am I doing? I’m trying to get myself off in public like some kind of a tramp. My panties are really damp. God, I’m horny. Jennifer, stop it! she told herself sternly.

“That’s the last slide, Ms. Johnston,” Peter said loudly to the meeting, snapping Jennifer back to reality. “Thank you, Peter. Everyone, please study the last slide closely,” Jennifer said. Then, leaning back, she struggled to loosen her wrists but couldn’t. Worse, as she wrestled, she heard more stitches pop. She felt an ominous draft on her breasts. Looking down, Jennifer was horrified to see her sheer bra and nipples on display. “Peter,” she whispered in a frenzy, “you have to untie me. I can’t explain this to the staff around the table. I’ll never live this down. I’ll be totally humiliated if everyone sees my breasts exposed and my hands tied behind my back.” Peter whispered back, “Forget it, Ms. Johnston. Remember, this is for the Hacker.” With that, he stepped to the light switch where he gave thumbs up to Nancy.

“That, ladies and gentlemen, brings our meeting to its grand finale,” Peter announced to the group. He then turned the lights on. “No!!!” Jennifer wailed, looking down to see her breasts on display and nipples hard in the chilly air conditioned air. “You can’t do this to me!” She struggled against her bonds but couldn’t get free. Around the table, all the men and women who had dealt with Ms. Johnston’s torment for years gasped, then laughed. “Oh God,” Jennifer said, “untie me now!”

“Um, Ms. Johnston,” Nancy said, “I have your water.” “What?!” Jennifer responded, pausing her struggles as her blouse gaped open, the split in her skirt grew, and her silky nylon feet slipped in her heels. “I don’t want the water anymore, you cow!”

“I brought it,” Nancy said, “and I want you to have it.” Then, with everyone watching, she poured the entire pitcher over Jennifer’s head. “No!! You can’t do this to me!!!!!” Jennifer shouted as the water flattened her expensive hairdo and made her makeup run down her face, leaving her looking more like a clown than an imperious business woman. But the hair and makeup were nothing compared to what came next.

The ice water shocked Ms. Johnston so badly that with a shriek, she surged out of her seat. Hard to do with her sleeves tied behind her back, but the ice cold water and the humiliation gave her tremendous strength. I’ve got to get out of here! she said to herself as she yanked her arms free. But rather than solving her problem, Jennifer made things worse for herself.

By pulling so hard, she freed herself from the chair, but also from her clothes! Everyone in the room heard seams tear and saw buttons fly. “Oh my,” several of them gasped out loud. The rest just laughed and pointed. “Stop it, stop it now!!” Ms. Johnston yelled at her underlings. “I will not be treated like this!” “Nice bra, Ms. Johnston,” Nancy said, “but . . .” Jennifer glanced down for just a second and knew that what the chilly draft was telling her was true. Her sheer bra was almost worse than just being naked and her erect nipples made it clear that the room was very cool and she might just be aroused. “Ohhh. . .” Jennifer moaned as she threw her arm across her breasts to cover herself. “Don’t look at me!!”

“Ms. Johnston,” Nancy continued, “your bra is nice, but . . .” “But what,” Jennifer hissed. Nancy didn’t say anything; she just pointed down. Jennifer scanned down and took a long look, her eyes growing large as her mind tried to wrap itself around what had happened. Peter had stapled her skirt to her chair and when she leaped out of the chair, she had torn it right off her body! The bra was embarrassment enough, but from the waist down Ms. Johnston’s attire consisted of high heel slides, silky thigh high stockings, and a pair of spanx panties. The queen of the board room let out a low mewling sound, a whimper, and turned to run. “Nooo!!!” she shouted.

Nancy and Peter saw Jennifer’s move coming and acted in coordination. Running in high heels, especially slides, is never easy; impossible when Nancy stuck her foot out. Jennifer stumbled forward right into her chair that Peter had wheeled into her path. Jennifer hit the chair hard, causing it to tip over and pin her arms underneath. The fall was embarrassing, rather than painful, and after a stunned moment Jennifer tried to get up. But Peter was holding the chair to the floor and Ms. Johnston couldn’t move.

It only took Jennifer a second to realize the scene she was presenting to her staff. Her arms were under the chair and her face was pressed into the carpet. Her hair and makeup were a mess. The force of the fall had proven too much for her delicate bra and it had popped open, leaving her breasts hanging down obscenely. I must look like a cow! Jennifer thought to herself. Worse than all that, her hips were over the arm of the chair so that her ass was lewdly elevated in the air, exposing those humiliating damn spanx panties to the entire room and stretching them tight and shiny across her ass. Her stockings, remarkably, had not laddered but the lace top thigh highs were highly embarrassing since they certainly weren’t meant to be seen by this audience. One of her heels had flown off in the tumble, but the other slide was on her foot. “Oh God,” Jennifer thought, “face down, ass up! I am not some ditzy tramp! How could this happen to me?!” Jennifer struggled and tried to free her arms but couldn’t. Her feet were on the floor, but her slick stocking on one foot and high heel on the other couldn’t get any purchase. She was effectively trapped.

The humiliation just kept coming. “She wears spanx!” one of the women V.P.’s said with a laugh. “She does indeed,” said one of the men. “And I do believe there’s a wet spot on those panties! I think she may be enjoying this.” Jennifer heard the laughter and wanted to die. She kicked her feet and flailed but couldn’t go anywhere.

Jennifer heard an unfamiliar low male voice and then Peter cleared his throat. “Everyone, the meeting is now over. Ms. Johnston knows that if she ever treats us poorly again, the consequences will be far worse.” “Do you hear me, Jennifer?” Peter continued. “That’s Ms. Johnston to you,” she said defiantly into the carpet, kicking her feet again in an effort to get free. You’d think it would be hard to be imperious in her position, but Jennifer was trying.

Whack! Peter spanked Jennifer’s ass hard. “Owww!!” Jennifer yelped. A second spank, a second yelp, and Peter asked again, “Do you understand me, Ms. Johston?” “I do,” she said, a beaten woman. Jennifer was rubbing her thighs together subtly but noticeably, the wet spot growing on her panties. “Oh God,” she moaned.

“That’s a good girl,” Peter said, his voice dripping with condescension. Jennifer could hear Nancy laughing in the background. “OK everyone, the meeting’s over. As you leave, please give Jennifer a reminder of her new place in the world.” Another hard spank on the ass and Jennifer yelped and squirmed some more. Each member of the staff filed by and, grinning and laughing, spanked “Ms. Johnston” (they couldn’t help but think of her formal name in quotes ever again) as hard as they could on the way out. After a few swats, Jennifer was gasping, writhing, grunting. The humiliation was so great. She rubbed her thighs together and kicked her feet so much that her other high heel flew off. The wet spot grew.

A few of the men, teased for so many years, took the opportunity to caress the smooth fabric of the spanx and the remarkably tight ass underneath before laying on another hard spank. “Ohhhh . . .” Jennifer moaned loudly. Her breath was coming in quick gasps and moans. The last V.P. walked out of the room and Peter lifted the chair just enough that Ms. Johnston could free her hands. “Do it, Jennifer,” he ordered. “Do it now!” “Oh God,” Jennifer moaned again, but she didn’t hesitate. With her face still pressed into the carpet and her ass and stocking feet in the air, she caressed her hanging boobs and then grabbed an erect nipple and pulled and twisted until the pleasure and pain were indistinguishable. “Uhhhhhh. . .” she moaned. Jennifer plunged her other hand down the front of her spanx and within three strokes had such a shattering orgasm that she clenched every muscle in her body and curled her toes in her expensive stockings. Then, then, she just laid there, spent.

“Well, that was quite a show,” Peter said to Nancy. “Tell me about it,” she laughed. “Good job, ‘Ms. Johnston!’” Nancy said with one more slap to the ass. Jennifer barely moved. Both looked to the overhead computer screen, where a masked figure had been observing all. “Thank you, sir,” they both said. “You’re welcome,” the Hacker responded. “Don’t forget, you will hear from me again. I look forward to working with you.” “It will be our pleasure, sir.” With that, a video record button in the corner of the screen turned off and the computer powered down. A few minutes later, Jennifer Johnston’s email account received a message that said, “Don’t forget. We won’t. Nor will the world.” Attached was a link to the video.

[Boss2125]

This is a really really good story, just high class writing.

[jjaygee58]

Thanks, Boss! Working on the next chapter. Compliments always welcome.