Story: TransCorp---The Beginning

by J. Darksong

Chapter 2. Ascension of a Queen

(five years later...)

Dr. Angela Barton leaned against the rail of her picturesque balcony, gazing down at the
incredible view of the ocean. This modest four-story villa overlooking the sea was perhaps her
favorite of all her dwellings, and she spent more time here than anywhere. Of course, when
you are the richest woman in the world, you can spend as much time as you want, anywhere
you want! Tiring of the lovely view, the lovely young woman walked back to the main room,
her loose open robe slipping off onto the couch as she plopped lightly into her reclining 
lounge chair. With the flick of a switch, the precisely set Tanning lamps came on, bathing her
beautiful body with glorious light, enveloping every inch of her already marvelously tanned
body, from her long blonde hair to her scarlet painted toes. With a sigh she recalled the way
she once looked, before the money: tall, moderately attractive, with neck-length auburn hair, a
modest but perky 36-C cup breasts, and slightly curvaceous hips. She had been lovely, not
beautiful, but lovely. Fifteen billion dollars, two plastic surgeries, six salon visits, and 
countless hours of aerobics later, she was a virtual goddess. Her breasts were larger, 44-DD's,
her hair was so perfectly bleached that it appeared she had always been a blonde, and her
normally pale freckled skin was tanned a golden bronze. Her figure now sported more curves
than a track of Austrian countryside, and she had traded away her intellectual brown framed
glasses for a pair of aqua blue contacts. In short, she was rich, powerful, and utterly beautiful.

Relaxing as the lamps completed their task, Angela mentally reviewed her day. At two, she had
a conference call with the California branch of her pharmaceutical company; it seemed there 
had been another small claims lawsuit over an unplanned side effect to Neo-Nannite treatment.
Sometimes I almost wish I had actually DONE some research on human test subjects instead 
of falsifying the results and sending it to the AMA she said softly to herself. Still, the product
had proved 99% effective in curing all cellular damage, basically curing every major disease 
from AIDS, and Ebola, down to MS and Alzheimer's, even down to the common cold itself. As
the probes lasted for only 24 hours, the person was able to be infected with OTHER illnesses,
or re-infected with the previous illness again, which made the viroids very much in demand. 
Even at the relatively low cost she had set for them, she had been able to make a fortune. So
what if one or two unforeseen mishaps occurred? She had more than enough money to pay off
any lawsuit, most of which were settled out of court. The only thing that bothered her was the
triviality of having to deal with the "little people" that irritated her so much.

At four-thirty, she was to meet with Samuel Taylor, her liaison with the home company in the
United States. A few months ago, someone had burglarized one of her production laboratories 
in the New York branch, stealing several documents, and a large number of viroid samples. 
Afterwards, the crook had destroyed the lab, blasting it to pieces. Luckily, no one had been
inside when the blast went off, but investigators had thus far been able to find no clues as to 
who had struck, and no trace of the stolen items had turned up. Taylor had been heading up
her own private investigation of the theft, using methods more...productive, than the common 
law enforcement agencies were able to. He was meeting with her today in person to give her 
his report, and Angela looked forward to finding out who had dared to defy her this way.

Smiling, she recalled her six o' clock dinner date with Enrico, her newest male fascination. The
man was native to Rio, and built like a Sherman tank. He was a little on the...ahem...SLOW side, 
which suited her just fine, but the thing that had really hooked her was his great sexual 
prowess, and the equipment to match! He was almost as long and thick as Mario...or was it 
Manuel? Or perhaps that oriental guy, Hoda? It didn't matter, of all the dozens and dozens of 
men she had bedded, this one was easiest the best lay so far. He would probably become her 
favorite... until she found someone else to replace him. Angela sighs with happiness. Life was
good when you were filthy rich.

A chime at her desk broke her out of her daydreams, and clicking off the tanning lamp, went 
over and clicked on the viewscreen. A young tanned, roguishly handsome face greeted her. 
Glancing at the time, she remembered her weekly massage appointment. But this wasn't Sven, 
the Swedish masseuse that she had flown in few Switzerland every week, this was a new
face, undoubtedly American. "Hello? Who are you and what do you want?" she called out 
testily. This was not what she had planned, and anything that didn't fit into her well laid plans 
bothered her.

"Hello?" the clearly American voice called out. "My name is Charles, and I am here to give you 
your massage."

Charles? She didn't know any Charles, nor had she requested one. "I didn't ask for you. What 
happened to Sven? I pay good money to have him flown in every week, and if something had 
come up, I expect to be notified IMMEDIATELY!"

The man looked taken aback, but answered nonetheless. "I'm terribly sorry, ma'am, but Sven 
was in a skiing accident earlier this morning. Seems that he broke both legs, and will be out of 
action for a while. He tried to contact you earlier today but we were told you were in 
conference and not to be disturbed." Angela sighed. That much was probably true. Enrico had  
shown up for lunch, and a quickie, and she had asked her secretary to hold all her calls for the 
rest of the morning. "The company sent me to fill in for him," he continued, "as I have also 
been trained in the same massage techniques as Sven. However, ma'am, I think you might be 
pleasantly surprised at my professional forte, something you mentioned to my supervisor that 
you wanted to experience... acupuncture."

Angela considered for a moment. Her high society friends and acquaintances had put her on 
to the subject at their last get together. Among small talk, they mentioned that a few of the 
company's masseuses had been trained in the Oriental art of acupuncture, and that it was a 
uniquely blissful feeling. Nancy had gone on to say that afterwards she had never felt so
relaxed, and the feeling had lasted for days, unlike the relaxation after the massage. The other 
girls had all agreed, having had it done as well, with only Angela silent on the issue. "What do 
YOU think about it, Angela?" Wanda Peterson had asked her with a knowing grin. Angela 
always hated the stuck up bitch with the superior attitude, and not willing to be outdone, she 
replied, "Oh, I haven't had my turn yet, Wanda DEAR, I've been looking for the foremost 
expert on the subject. You know me, always wanting the absolute best, never wanting 
to...settle," she said, with a venomous glance at Wanda as she said the word, "for second 
best." Truth be told, after the luncheon, she had promptly forgotten the whole thing, but 
apparently the ladies had mentioned to the masseuse, and now she was stuck with 
this...person...at her door. Oh well, she thought, why not? How much could it hurt?

Charlie had been waiting patiently, wondering idly if she was going to keep him waiting all 
day. He had a busy schedule, and much to do; he was very good at what he did, and his skills 
were much in demand. Dr. Barton was extremely rich, and quite famous, but he had his pride. 
Just as he prepared to turn around and leave, the door clicked open behind him. "Come in," 
she said simply, and in he walked, gazing for a moment at the lovely body half exposed in the 
open robe. Her pubic area was totally shaven, he noted with interest, and the nipples on her 
large breasts were peaked and hard, no doubt from the cool air flowing throughout the room. 
Despite himself and his training working on naked bodies, Charlie felt himself getting aroused. 
As if knowing what he was feeling, Angela gave him a devilish smile, and rocked her hips 
seductively as she walked slinkily down the hallway.

"This is the parlor, where Sven usually does my massage," she said, slipping out of her robe, 
and depositing it on a small hook. "What will you do first, the acu, or the massage? I expect to 
get both treatments, you know," she said, idly straightening a few strands of her lovely hair.

"Oh, don't worry," he said ominously, opening his pack, and spreading the contents out on 
the table about him. "I'll make sure you get the Full treatment. We'll do the acupuncture first, 
which will make the massage afterwards feel all the more sensual. I would, however, suggest 
we blindfold you for this first time. Many clients find it VERY unnerving to look across their 
body and see all those pins sticking out of them." The image caused Angela to start slightly, 
and Charlie quickly added, "Oh, don't worry. It's painless, I assure you. I am quite good at my 
job, Ms. Barton, I trained with the utmost expert in China for five years, and not to blow my 
own horn, but I am just as good as she is. You won't feel anything but deep relaxation."

Resignedly, the lovely young woman climbed up into the lounge chair, as the man pulled her 
arms and legs outwards, laying her in a spread eagled position. Slipping the blindfold over her 
eyes, he whispered softly. "Just relax, Ms. Barton. I will not hurt you in any way. You might be
a little anxious about what is going to happen but just relax, and I'll make you feel like a new 
woman." His words, mixed with the anticipation, caused her pussy to moisten, her breathing 
speeding up slightly. With a gasp she felt a long leather strap fastening over one wrist, then 
another, leaving her arms pinned to the side. Raising her blindfolded face, she cried out in 
alarm.

"Shhh, it's okay," the man continued to whisper, gently pushing her head back into the soft 
pliant leather. "I'm just strapping you down to hold you still. You have to remain absolutely 
still while I place in the pins, and the straps are just to keep you from moving around too 
much. You are perfectly safe, Ms. Barton. Trust me."

Biting her lip to control her fears, she settled down. The other girls had endured this, Wanda 
Peterson had endured this, so SHE could endure it. A sexually dominant woman, she hated
any loss of control, in her life, in business, and in sexual encounters. In all things she relished 
being in control. It was an obsession. Now, being strapped down, unable to escape, unable to 
see what was going on, she found herself on totally new ground. Feeling her bare feet being 
strapped into place, she swallowed the lump in her throat and was about to call out to him to 
release her, when he spoke again. "You know, Ms. Barton, I am very much impressed. By this 
time, your lady friends had changed their minds, crying out for me to release them. You have 
so much more self-control than they did. It took me three sessions with Ms. Peterson before 
she agreed to actually go through with it...but don't tell her I told you that," he said with a 
chuckle.

His words fired her resolve, and she settled back, ready to prove she was better than those 
stuck up little twits. She couldn't wait to use this information on Wanda and see the look on 
her face. "Ready when you are, Charlie," she said softly.

"We've already started, ma'am," he said softly from her side. "Believe it or not, I've already 
inserted three pins into your left arm. See? No pain at all, you didn't even notice." He was right 
Focusing on the sensation now, she could just barely notice the nerves at the end of her arm 
tingled slightly, the precisely placed pins sticking through her skin. The sensation, very faint, 
was quite pleasurable, and deeply relaxing. As the hour flew by, and more and more pins were 
inserted, she felt herself relaxing even more. Once in a while she noticed the pins as they
entered, a slight discomfort that gave way to an infinitely more pleasurable sensation. Her 
pussy, already wet, was throbbing with sensation, and she knew she had creamed twice 
throughout the session. Her very mind seemed to have pins in it, exciting her brain, stimulating 
her, diddling her consciousness like a finger rubbing an engorged clit. The thought of her clit 
made her cum again, and again, her mind slowly surrendering to the feeling of pleasure, 
coming at her from all over her body at once, bringing her slowly down, down into the jaws of 
blissful oblivion.

((End of Part 2.))