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Author Topic: Investigative Reporting  (Read 1137 times)

Offline Beater

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Investigative Reporting
« on: April 05, 2018, 07:44:37 AM »
Investigative Reporting


Be professional. Just keep being professional.

Always be professional. If there was one thing that she had learnt from her college degree in journalism, it was to always stay professional, no matter what. She kept repeating that thought in her head, knowing that eventually she would get her break. She just had to do her job until then. To stay professional.

"God this is a nice angle."

Brooke stopped climbing up the ladder as her cameraman admired the view from below. She could almost feel his camera lens zooming in on her bikini clad ass, recording what would be for his own private entertainment later. Jack was a sad man, she might have even felt a little sorry for him if he wasn't such an asshole.

Brooke did her best to ignore his unwanted attention but found it difficult to not feel a little degraded, knowing that the matching pink bikini top and bottom the studio was making her wear was no doubt there just to portray her as eye candy. They would most likely use a picture of her in her bikini top as a thumbnail for the article too. Easy clickbait targeting overly imaginative guys like Jack. She had of course spoken to her boss about the way that she felt the local news studio was over sexualising her body but her concerns seemed to have gone unheard. Those bastards would do anything to get her into a revealing outfit or compromising position.

Once the reach the top of the platform, she leaned against the rusted railing and experienced a sudden wave of vertigo as she looked down. She wasn't even that far up but the aged structure creaked and groaned, giving the uneasy feeling that it was going to collapse at any moment. Brooke quickly gave a thumbs up to Jack who replied with one of his own to tell her that he was ready. She wanted to get back down as quickly as possible.

One final moment to compose herself before she climbed feet first into the tunnel and slid down the water slide. The metal tube spiralled around, twisting as a strange blur of filtered light came and went with the twist and turns. Brooke's claustrophobia threatened to grab hold of her mind, drawing a nervous panic before she reached the end of the slide and shot out of it into the pool below.

A world of water submerged around her, sealing her within a giant bubble of disrupted, rippling waves. Her limbs failed about until she touched the bottom of the pool and grained a sense of direction. Air came with a huge breath when she finally emerged from the water, her blonde hair flicking backwards, leaving a drizzle of rain like drops of water. She opened her eyes and then smiled, her amber irises and wet body glistening in the sun while the camera recorded her entrance.

"As many memories as Sandcastles Waterparks have given over the years, I'm sad to report that it is unfortunately going to be shutting its doors for good at the end of the month. First opened in...the parks will be missed by the community...seems like I was lucky to get to have one last go down the slide. This was Brooke Paris, reporting for Sunnyville news."

"And cut."

"Aagh, I'm so sick of just doing fluff pieces all the time."

"What are you complaining about? The camera loves you sweet cheeks."

"Fuck off!"

Brooke took long strides across the pool as she spoke to Jack. She reached the edge and climbed out before retrieving her towel to dry herself down. Sighing, the warmth of the sun helped calm her. Just stay professional.

"I would just like to report on something that doesn't make me look like a dumb fox news bimbo."

"Oh don't feel like that, you're tits ain't no where huge enough for you to be a bimbo."

A genuine smile came about Brooke's lips. That was actually quite funny. She remembered how as a teen she had wanted her breasts to grow larger than they did but she was glad that didn't now. Her charming B cup breasts complimented her slim figure and it was much easier to take her seriously when she was dressed in a suit.

"Anyway, you even get a vacation starting tomorrow."

"Mandatory vacation."

Brooke quickly corrected him. She wasn't someone who was obsessed with work but it didn't feel right to her to take time off. Not that she was planning to.

"Whatever, anyway I need to head off. There's been a fire down town that the boss wants me to film. Enjoy yourself, get a nice tan for me."

"Sure."


Brooke took her time when getting dressed back into her regular clothing. She squeezed into her jeans before hooking her bra and dragging down her white tank top. Checking herself in the mirror that was found in the changing room, she made a few last minute adjustments of her top before heading out of the Waterpark and walking to her car.

The sun had baked the inside of her old Toyota, causing a surge of gentle heat to strike her when she opened the door. She winded down the window and then turned on the air con to full blast, cooling down the vehicle as quickly as she could. Her air conditioning made that same struggling choking noise that it always did but cool air came out none the less.

She took a slip from her bottle, the water tasting differently from her expectations. That's what effectively being left in an oven would do, she supposed.

Her attention turned to her laptop which she had left on the passenger seat having forgotten to hid it when she had gotten out. She picked it up and placed it on her lip before opening it and turning it on. She then looked around at the empty car park to see if she was truly alone. If someone saw what was on her laptop then there would no doubt be a series of questions raised. She then plugged in a pair of earphones before taking one final look around. Sure that no one was there, she went to the files on her laptop and then searched for that horrific video again.

She didn't know who had sent it to her. Overall, the clip was just over ten minutes long. Ten minutes too many. It loaded up slowly before playing.

Brooke had watched the mysterious video enough times for it to be permanently scarred into her brain but she watched it again, just hoping that she would notice something else. Something that she could work with. It started and the same image of a poor crying woman formed in her laptop screen. The woman was young, no older than Brooke who was 22. Her light brown hair was tied back in a ponytail to expose her pretty face. A face that hunted Brooke when she slept.

The woman's sky blue eyes were steaming with hot tears that flowed down her face, smudging lines of heavy mascara down her cheeks. A small amount of snot also leaked out of her nose from her uncontrolled crying and her lips quivered in a unholy mixture of pain and fear.

Brooke had shown the video immediately to the police the moment she had received it. They came back to her a month later telling her that the video was most likely fake but she could tell that it wasn't. Her gut knew straight away that the video was very much real.

The image of the crying woman's face zoomed out to show the chair that she was bound to. Her body hunted Brooke as well. The woman was slim but curvy, almost like a model. All across her pale skin were endless marks of torture. Ugly purple bruises, welts that crisscrossed and cut deep, and burn marks from at least a dozen cigarettes that had been put out on her. Brooke's natural reaction was to shut off her laptop and stop watching, knowing full well what came next.

"Please stop!"

The woman begged a group of unseen assailants, shaking her head and saying the most disheartening words as she tried desperately to appeal to her torturers.

"Please! You know I will do anything you want!"

She was completely naked except for a series of leather straps which bound her down to the chair. Her left hand was bleeding from her fingertips where each of her nails had been recently pulled out. Unfortunately, her right hand remained untouched.

Someone walked up to her from behind the camera that was filming the woman's suffering. His face was immediately pixelated when he came into shot. The man had a set of pillars in his hand that were already coated in blood. He grabbed her by the hair and forced her to look at him.

"Please..."

"Would you like some hard slaps to make sure you don't pass out?"

To Brooke's surprise, the woman reluctantly nodded her head. That part still shocked her now, on her seventh viewing of the clip.

"Sure thing cunt."

The slaps he gave her were vicious. Each one made a loud sound as his palm and the back of his hand caught her squarely on her face. It left the woman whimpering as she cried out, begging god to just kill her.

Then he placed the pillars towards her fingertips and Brooke almost couldn't watch. There was an eruption of blood that swelled out from the cuticle as it was ripped apart. The woman screamed out a bloodcurdling cry as her fingernail was torn from the nail bed. From the red blood that freely leaked out, Brooke managed to make out the thin layer of connective membrane that stretch out from the nail that was being removed and where it was supposed to be. Eventually that membrane ripped apart as the nail came loose.

The camera zoomed once again to her face to capture her anguished suffering. It had made Brooke sick the first time she saw it. Even now it made her uneasy as her breakfast threatened to come back up. The camera reset back onto her hand and another man stepped up to continue the torture.

This man, if possible, was even worse than the previous one. He didn't slap her, he didn't even say anything. Instead he simply yanked out a nail, quickly a efficiently before savouring her screams. The woman cried and he laughed at her. It was funny to him like some kind of joke as he chuckled at the pain that he had inflicted. He then toyed with her, wiping her bloody nail onto her face, smearing crimson paint in thin lines, either side of her nose to draw whiskers.

The video mercifully was cut short, skipping over the remaining three nails. When it came back, the woman had been unstrapped from the chair and allowed to fall onto the floor. A pestle and mortar was pushed towards her, inside was held her torn out fingernails and from her bleeding feet, so were her toenails.

"Grind them up Tash."

Tash, That was the woman's name. It must have been short for Natasha or something similar to that. She didn't sound like she was from Eastern Europe but it was difficult to tell from the limited amount of time that Brooke had heard her speak.

Brooke then watched as Tash was made to ground up her nails, motivated by a whip and cattle-prod. The amount of blood spilled from her hands made it difficult to hold the pestle and mortar, as to would have the pain that Brooke imagined that Tash must have been feeling. Both of the stone objects slipped out of her hands for which she was punished. Penalised like if it was some kind of pervasive test.

The video skipped again and to show Tash down on her hands and knees. A dog bowl with her name written across its brim was filled with what looked like dog food. The contents of the mortar were then spilled on top like seasoning.

"Eat it cunt."

Brooke quickly opened her car door and threw up as Tash took her first bite. Out of the seven times that she had watched the video, she had thrown up four times. How such a thing could exist was beyond her. It was sick and disgusting.

She had wanted nothing to do with the video the first time she had seen it. Then something just clicked into place. It wasn't even because finding a story like this could have provided her with her big break, rather it was just because she felt like she needed to help Tash, if she was still alive.

She took her phone and opened up her contents, looking for the number of an acquaintance that she had shown the video to in the hope that his tech wizardry would be able to find something. Wiping away tears from her face, she texted him.

Did you manage to find anything?

He replied shortly a couple of minutes later.

Come over, I've found another video.

Offline surferchick

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Re: Investigative Reporting
« Reply #1 on: April 06, 2018, 05:45:56 PM »
Awesome start!
Can’t await the next part. Please don’t let us wait too long

Offline Beater

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Re: Investigative Reporting
« Reply #2 on: April 06, 2018, 10:37:59 PM »
His place was a mess. A cramped up, one bedroom apartment with low rent, where the living area had been turned into a makeshift workspace. On the floor were a series of sprawled out power cables that run through to various sockets and extenders while several electronic fans blasted out much needed cool air.

Even with the fans and the air conditioning unit set to its highest setting, Andrew could still feel the summer heat coming from outside and the radiating warmth of his computer. The heat made concentrating on any one thing for prolonged periods of time difficult, especially when it came to spreadsheets and sequences of coding. His cursor had moved forward for about a hour, flickering almost like it mocking him.

He sighed and wished that he had never agreed to take this job. It wasn't even going to pay him well and was much more complicated than the simple website designing gigs that he mostly survived off. Still it had seemed interesting at first, a chance for a change in pace. Now his task of reading and deleting unnecessary coding was just a tiresome and boring beyond belief.

His lack of concentration wasn't improved when he heard his phone buzzing next to the monitor. He looked at the scene but found that his mobile screen remained black, telling him that it was just a text or email. He had to unlock it first and then open up his messages to see what it was. The words were in bold to highlight the text message that he hadn't seen yet. Besides the text was the name, Brooke Paris.

Did you manage to find anything?

Suddenly, his boredom ceased immediately and he read the text again. Brooke Paris was a young attractive reporter working for the local news station. Andrew didn't know how she had come upon his name but she had first contracted him a few years ago as part of some research that she was doing on the dark web for a college report. He was no expert on the subject but knew enough to give a few nuggets of information but not before looking her up on social media. She had since reached out to him concerning the acquisition of a couple documents every now and again, paying him a decent amount for his troubles. Looking through her bank accounts, he didn't really know how she could afford it. She must have paid him her pay check for at least a couple months after the last job he did for her. He respected that, she was dedicated to her job even if her job mostly involved dressing up in revealing clothing to report about local news.

She also had a blog. A sign of the times he guessed. The articles that she covered on her blog were much more serious from slavery in the sex trade to corruption in the local government. She even had set up a pen name for her blog which told him that she did it to report the story rather than for the recognition.

He read Brooke's text one more time, remembering the video that she had given him on that flash drive. The video where a young woman was being tortured in the most cruelest manner possible. Her fingernails and toenails were being torn off before she was made to grind and eat them. Andrew started to feel himself growing hard as he thought about that video.

He tapped on Brooke's text and sent a reply, telling her to come to his apartment as he had found another video. He wasn't lying. He really did find more although doing so had been a right pain. The dark web operated differently. It wasn't like he could google search this stuff. He had to first look at the code of the video for a source. That took him to a forum page which was a dead end with just a few random commentors. The person who had posted it seemed to not exist.

It took him surveying through several other similar forums before he found the same video again. This time he found a source which took him to a site that shared videos. Much of the videos there were taken from YouTube or twitch. It took him ages before he found what he was looking for. Then he found more.


He got up from his computer chair when his door bell rung. Unlocking it, he was greeted by Brooke. She was wearing a white tank top with a black bra and a pair of tight jeans. Her blonde hair looked wet, as if she had just recently showered or gone for a swim.

"Hi Andrew, are you doing alright?"

He let her in, closing the door and locking again when she stepped inside.

"Yeah just great."

He watched as Brooke walked over to were he worked, being careful to not knock anything over. He followed her and sat back down at his desk before moving his mouse around on his wrist supporting mat.

"Classy."

Brooke noticed his novelty mouse mat and the two moulds of silicon that made the wrist support. She didn't make any further remark after that.

"So about that video I handed to you. You're saying you found another one."

"That's right but it was a pain in the neck to find."

He watched as Brooke sighed softly, sensing that he waited more for doing this job.

"Was it the same video? The full thing I mean."

"Nah it's a different one and trust me, if you want to do an article on this, you're going to want to see this one."

He watched as Brooke bowed her head and looked to the floor. She bit her bottom lip as she tried to bargain.

"I'll pay you double."

Wow. She must really be invested this. He watched as Brooke continued to cutely bit her lip. He could see how hopeful she was that he would accept.

"I want quadruple."

The sadness in Brooke's expression almost made Andrew feel sorry for her. It was like he had punched her in the gut. In truth he would have searched for more videos for himself in his free time but with Brooke seemingly so desperate, the chance to be extortive presented itself. That was something that he just couldn't pass up.

"Please Andrew, I can't afford to pay you that much. Double is as high as I can go. You saw the video, this needs to be reported, if I can build something out of this then maybe we can help that poor girl."

Help that poor girl? Andrew didn't want to do that. In fact, that was the last thing he wanted.

"Maybe we can work something out."

"What...?"

Brooke started looking nervous, almost like she knew what was coming next. Andrew was hesitant to try and press his luck. His heart beat increased and his breathing changed.

"Take your clothes off."

He had expected Brooke to flat out refuse. Perhaps to even scream and rip his head off. Instead, her face turned red with a sense of shame, not being able to believe what she was about to do.

She took out her tank top first, removing it over her head to reveal that black bra which straps Andrew had seen under Brooke's top. That look of innocent embarrassment on her face made it so much hotter as tears built up in her eyes. She then, slowly and extremely reluctantly, unhooked her bra, letting it side off down her shoulders and off from her arms.

Her breast were exposed to him, just a few feet away. Brooke Paris, the pretty blonde reporter that was on the local news was stripping for him in his apartment. He kept staring at her cute pink nipples while she unbuttoned her jeans and let them slip down her thighs. She lifted up her leg and took off her pants, leaving just a red lacy thong.

"Them as well."

"Please don't Andrew."

He saw that she was close to tears. He face burnt red and her arms covered up her naked breasts.

"Do you want to see it or not?"

There was an internal conflict that warred inside Brooke's head. Not being able to look at him in the eyes, she took off her thong, sliding it down her toned legs until it reached the floor. She the covered her intimate regions with her hands, using her right hand to hide her pussy and her left arm to cover her tits.

"I... I thought you were my friend."

He should have probably have stopped there. His concern and sympathy for Brooke were genuine. It was a shame that the vision of the beautiful crying blonde in front of him provided him with enough lust that his other feeling felt numb.

He unzipped his pants and went too far.

"No! I won't do that!"

"I just want a blowjob, that's all."

The look of revulsion on Brooke's face turned him on almost as hard as her naked body. Soon after, he didn't know what he was he was saying.

"Really, are you that much of a fucking prude to not want to help that girl? All you need to do is crawl beneath my desk and suck me off. Are you really going to be a bitch and let that girl suffer because of you?"

His mean words made her flinch. Tears steamed down her face as she slowly bent over. On her hands and knees, she crawled over, not seductively like he imagined but more like a beaten dog. It worked either way as Andrew couldn't believe that she was actually going to do it. Brooke half disappeared underneath his desk, her curvy ass and model like legs, sticking out. Her head popped up inches from his lap, under the table.

"If I do this, do you promise to give me the video that you found?"

"Yeah, if you make it good."

She pulled down his pants and then slowly grabbed his boxers. His dick was already fully erected and it popped out and hit her face, causing a startled cry of disgust. Then he saw her looking directly at his cock. Her open mouth just mere millimetres away, so close that she could probably already taste it. Andrew heard a little whimper and then he felt her lips wrapped around the head of his cock.

Brooke started with just the tip, sucking on it like a lollipop. Then she took more of it into her mouth. He could feel the warmth of her breath, the moistness of her spit. Then he felt her tongue sliding up and down, licking the underside of his cock. She bobbled her head, slowly to imaginary beat. A lively rhythm that brought immense pleasure to his cock.

He let her suck him off, enjoy every moment of it before a thought entered his otherwise, fully occupied mind. The thought nearly made him cum, nearly ruining it. Underneath his desk, busy blowing him, Brooke couldn't see his computer screen.

Her lips made it difficult to operate the mouse. Typing in the right keys was even harder as he tried to not cum. Then a sense of panic came as he rushed to put the volume on mute when the live stream connected. The screen buffered as the image loaded but it soon cleared up in HD. The same girl from the video Brooke had shown him was seen, tied up and next to another girl with red ginger hair. Rope knotted to their thumbs suspended them off the ground, not that Tash could use her feet anyways with her broken toes and burnt tendons.

Whoever the computer genius that they had over there was good but Andrew was better. It had been a real challenge to find their site that worked through invitation only. It had been even harder to beside the pay walls to preform a site rip. Accessing someone else's account was harder still but once he had been successful, he had grown very well acquainted with the pretty young sluts that were being tortured in the stream.

Tash was the girl that appeared in the video that Brooke had shown him. She was the girl that seemed to get abused the worse with her being tortured on a daily basis. The hot redhead with her was Rosie and she was Andrew's favourite. The youngest of them, only having celebrated her 18th birthday a few months ago in a way that she would never forget.

Despite his favourism, it was Tash that was really doing it for him this time. Knowing that Brooke was sucking him off in the hope of saving that girl, unaware that he was watching her being tortured in a live stream as she blew him was driving him wild.

Go on, start hurting her!

The two girls were sharing a double sided dildo down their throats, clearly having been told not to drop it. Then the whipping started. Tash received it first. The strokes being given to her were so amazingly brutal that Andrew was so tempted to put on the sound.

As Brooke continued to blow him, his viciousness came out as he wanted them to whip Tash harder. To beat her to the point of loosing sanity. To make her bleed. He grabbed hold of Brooke's hair and ignored her protests. Then, he forced her all the way down at the same time as a rattan cane slammed across Tash's perfect ass.

Andrew could feel Brooke's hands, balled up into fists, tapping his thighs as he held her down. Her throat tightened, constricting like a python while he choked her, not allowing her to breathe. She was thrashing about down there, her fingers clawing away at him, her legs kicking away at the floor. Anything to try getting Andrew to let go.

He kept his hold on Brooke's hair, pulling any harder would have yanked out her pretty blonde hair, scalping her. The gagging sounds that she made more than compensated for the screams that he had to mute. Then, just as the show he was watching transcended to the whips and cane being used on Rosie, he stopped being able to control himself.

He could literally feel his balls emptying down Brooke's throat. All the while she gagged and choked, heaving like she was about to throw up. It must have felt horrible for her but it was like heaven for him. He kept her held down to watch a couple more lashes of the whip, striking Rosie's back and to completely drain his balls, before his hands released their hold of Brooke's hair.

She came off his cock and immediately started coughing and panting. Her lost their ability to support her, seemingly collapsing at her elbows and sending her head to the floor where she spat out his cum. It sounded beautiful as she breathed heavy, deep breaths, trying not to pass out.

"You...you bastard!"

Andrew smiled to himself as Brooke struggled to come to. It took her a good minute and a bit before she looked up at him from underneath the desk. Her eyes shooting daggers and her heart filled with rage. He reached down to pat her on the head.

She slapped his hand away and backed out from under the desk. Andrew had just enough time to close down the browser page before Brooke stood up. Her hand came so first that he didn't even have time to react. The slap was so loud that the noise of the electronic fans, air conditioning and computers did little to nothing to mask the sound.

Andrew's cheek sting and he recoiled back for a second. Then, that smile came back and he watched as Brooke again started crying.

"You're a bastard! Fuck you! If you ever do anything like that again, I'll bite your fucking cock off!"

Andrew could tell that she meant it. He watched her quickly put back on her clothes. She then wiped her mouth with her hand, removing a streak of his cum that he had hoped she wouldn't notice.

"I did what you wanted now where's the video you promised?"

Andrew thought better than to make her. He grabbed an empty CD from a stack and copied a file onto it. One that he had selected and edited to make things a little more difficult for Brooke. The file took a while to copy, whilst Brooke starred at him from the other side of the desk, looking like she wanted to kill him.

Once the file had finished copying, he ejected it out from his computer and handed to her but didn't let go just yet. Not before adding something to really piss her off.

"Tell you what, if I find anything else, I'll give you a call. Maybe we can arrange something else."

"Seriously Andrew, go fuck yourself!"

He let her out by unlocking the door to his apartment and watched her leave. She showed him her middle finger as she left, making him chuckle. He closed his door then took a moment to appreciate what just happened. He just face fucked the shit out of Brooke Paris, that pretty blonde slut from the local news.

Not only that, he had a whole catalog of additional films which he hadn't given to her. If he played his cards right, he could get her to do anything. He could do anything to her. Andrew rushed back to his computer with his mind going wild. He opened up a program that he had just recently downloaded and deleted what he had previously been running on it. On the internet, he searched up Brooke Paris and found several videos of her reporting on various events. He then looked another video. One that he had managed to download with the rest of that data haul.

As far as models went, Rosie's body was all wrong for Brooke. For a start, her hair was a different colour but she would do. The program then started learning, finding the faces of the two girls from the samples, before it would place Brooke's face onto a video of Rosie getting her ass gang raped.


Brooke went back to her car, still coughing and spilling tears. She wanted to go back up there to strangle that asshole. Whatever he had given her had better be worth it.

She got inside and turned on her laptop which she had hidden under the passenger seat. With her earphones plugged in, she slotted in the CD and let it load. The media player opened up and a black screen started as the video buffered. Then she saw it.

A girl sat down nude on a chair with her hands stretched above her head with handcuffs. Her feet were tied in front of her and some string pulled back on her toes to expose her feet. Then two additional people came into the camera shot, their faces pixelated to hide their identities. One of them was a woman who pulled off a hood that had covered the bound girl's face. Brooke recognised her instantly. That was Tash.

As the video played on, Brooke's fears became a reality. The original video she had been sent wasn't an isolated clip. It was part of a series of what she could only imagine were equally horrifying films. They were going to produce an update a day featuring Tash.

Brooke turned on her engine, planning on rushing straight to the police but then the video continued. A car battery and a set of jumper cables were wheeled into view. The cable clamps were then hooked onto Tash's breasts, causing her agony as they bit down on her nipples.

"Listen carefully cunt. We're going to ask you a series of questions. Each time you don't answer or if we think you're lying, we're going to fry your tits."

Brooke watched as Tash looked around at her kidnappers, not being able to believe that this was really happening to her.

"Let's start with an easy one. What's your name?"

Tash screamed out when they shocked her. Her head flung backwards as a powerful, painful current of electricity flowed into her breasts.

"Tash."

"And that's short for?"

"Natasha."

"How old are you Tash?"

"Nineteen."

Then an idea hit her. Brooke turned off her engine and watched the rest of the film. Observing Tash's body, she saw that there was hardly a mark on her and from the introduction at the start of the video, this must have been the first film. The first one made after Tash had been kidnapped. Someone out there must have reported her missing. Brooke didn't need to show it to the police, they probably wouldn't be able to do anything anyway. But she could with the contacts that she had back at the news studio. She could find out who Tash is and then, just maybe she could save her.

Offline Beater

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Re: Investigative Reporting
« Reply #3 on: April 06, 2018, 10:39:32 PM »
Awesome start!
Can’t await the next part. Please don’t let us wait too long

Any other parts of this story will most likely take a lot longer for me to write

Offline Beater

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Re: Investigative Reporting
« Reply #4 on: November 15, 2018, 09:35:41 AM »
Despite being certain that she was knocking on the door to the right apartment, a nagging doubt formed in her head that she might be on the wrong floor. It had been a good while since she had visited James. She used to do it quite often but it must have been months since they last saw each other.

Brooke knocked on the dark green door of apartment 209 again, banging her knuckles a little harder this time. Her hand cracked against the painted wood, producing a noise loud enough that he surely must have heard her. Maybe he wasn't in. Perhaps he was working late on some case. She decided to knock on the door one last time before giving up.

"Ow."

She pulled her hand down and checked the skin of her fingers to see just how she had managed to hurt herself. There was a little reddening to her joint which stung a little when she bent her finger. Guess she must have been knocking a little too hard. Honestly, she wasn't sure if it was because she felt like she was finally making some progress in her investigation, or if it was just because she was looking forward to seeing James again.

It was silly. She was being silly. Nervously meeting up your ex was one of those dumb teenage things that Brooke had presumed she'd grown out of. It wasn't even like they hadn't broken up for good reasons. In truth, she wasn't even sure if she wanted to see him.

After her third and last failed attempt at knocking, she was about to turn around and head back down the stairs when she heard someone moving from inside. There was then a loud bang, followed by James swearing as he made his way across to the door. After he drew down the chain and undid the lock to open the door, Brooke frowned at him as he was hopping on one foot, clinching the shin that he had accidentally banged into his coffee table.

"Are you alright? It looks like you've caught one-leg-aetitis."

"Funny Brooke. Come up with that yourself?"

She awkwardly laughed at her own joke while James let her in. Inside, not much had change in his modest apartment. Everything was still where it used to be, making the place feel familiar and welcoming to her. She took the chance to take off her denim jacket and hung it on an empty hook, next to the suit that James had probably worn that day.

In her salmon pink shirt and skin tight jeans, she took another moment to look around his apartment for anything that was different. The only thing that she could really notice was a half eaten pizza on the kitchen table, a couple of empty beer bottles and an open file that he must have been engrossingly flicking through when she had knocked. Flashing a quick glance at some of the pictures that were inside, she couldn't help but be taken a back by what they showed.

"Jesus Christ."

James quickly rushed to close the file and then glared, being a little bit annoyed at her. It was times like this when a reporter and a detective didn't mix well together. She would never actually take advantage of her relationship with James for the sake of her career but that hadn't stopped moments like this from having been near weekly occurrences. To be fair to him, while she might not have gone ahead and used his position, the thought of doing so had definitely crossed her mind more than once.

"So how you been Brooke? You're looking well."

She gave him a smile and then took a good look at him for the first time in months without him comedically hopping. As he had always been, James stood about half a foot gallery than her. His black hair was brushed out of his face and his bread was trimmed and yet looked messy in a strangely attractive sort of manly way. He was still wearing a shirt and tie which either meant that he had only just gotten back home, or that he was too exhausted to notice. The way his dark eyes looked bloodshot from a mixture of alcohol and sleep deprivation told her that it was likely the later.

"I'm doing fine James. How about you?"

Brooke wasn't too sure that she liked the formality in which they were speaking to each other but she supposed that it made sense. Cold formality had to be better than awkward silence and bittersweet memories. Trying to play detective herself, she attempted to read his body language to find out if he felt the same way. Without looking back at her whilst he grabbed another beer from the fridge, he let out a deep sigh.

"Yeah I'm doing great. It's just a little frantic right now with this case I've been assigned."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Brooke asked as he popped off the cap and handed her the beer bottle.

"No I'm alright."

This time, it was Brooke's time to sigh. Somethings really never did change. Among them was James and his lack of being emotionally open with her. He had never been willing to let her in to things that were bothering him. Not even whilst they had been dating. At most times, she had been okay with that but sometimes it made her feel distant and cold from him.

Psychoanalysing him like Brooke had done so many times before, she had come to realise that it was an emotional wall that he had built up around himself. One that she hadn't managed to demolish down. He had however taken out several bricks for her, poking out large holes from which she could look through to the other side. Whether or not those holes had been repaired since they've broken up was what she had come here to find out. As it turned out, she was willing to take advantage of him after all.

James Fien was a third generation immigrant who's grandparents had arrived during a civil unrest, his life story could easily be written into a book. Joining the police force after college, he was chosen by a joint FBI task force to infiltrate the triads, he helped bring down a number of high profile players before signing up for another assignment targeting the yakuza. Making detective at a younger age than almost any other officer, pretty much came as a direct thanks from the DA.

Having worked undercover for that long, Brooke knew why he had such a hard time bringing down his defences for her but it didn't make it any easier to swallow. Especially when she was so ready to take their relationship to the next level. It seemed like he just wouldn't ever be there to fully commit to her. During the height of their fights, they had both said things that they now had come to regret.

"James about what I..."

"Let's not. Can we just forget about all of it?"

She looked him in the eye and saw that he was just as hurt as she was. He could be a real frustrating asshole when he wanted to be but she was no better, turning into an absolute bitch if pushed. She felt like she needed to say sorry but he had very kindly given them both a way out which appeared to be easier to take than an assortment of apologies.

"I would like that James." That brought a smile on both of their faces.

"I saw your piece on that waterpark by the way. That was quite the fine piece of journalism you did there. Real breaking news."

Brooke's smile widened even further at his joke. Like close friends, they laughed with each other and Brooke helped herself to a slice of mushroom and pepperoni piza. She bit into and nearly choked on it from laughing too hard as James made fun of the she always took a bite of the crust first to see if it was any good. Or like he called it, "eating pizza like a psychopath".

They then spent a while just talking about what was happening since they last saw each other. He let her bore him for a bit as she droned on about baseball and he then returned the favour talking about soccer and how it the superior sport as more than one country actually played. Brooke then teased him by calling it "soccer", making him say how stupid the NFL was.

As time went on, another moment of awkwardness came when she found herself staring into him like a dumb schoolgirl. To make sure he didn't notice it, she downed her second beer while he chanted for her to chuck. She then screech for a bit as she felt it about to come out from her nose.

"Hey Brooke?"

"Yeah?"

"About that case you're investigating."

Brooke stopped laughing as James spoke to her. In all of a sudden, his demeanour had changed. He was now being deathly seriously. When she looked at him, she could see that he was concerned.

"Did you find anything from your contacts in the FBI?"

"I don't suppose I'm going to be able to make you let this one go, am I?"

"I... I need to do this. I don't know why but I do."

"For fucks sake Brooke. This is some really messed up shit that you're looking into."

"Please James."

He stared at her and then forced himself to accept that she wasn't drop this one. He knew just how stubborn she could be. Reluctantly, James went to a messenger bag and took out a new file.

"This is all that Holly managed to find about it. Your girl's name is Natasha Edwards. She went missing last year without a trace. A couple of months into her disappearance, a rape, torture film was found with her in it. Tech did their best but they couldn't do anything with it. A couple more films were found but again, just dead ends. At the moment, nobody knows if she's even still in the country."

"But they think that she's still alive?"

"There was a recent film found that suggest so but nothing's definite."

Brooke quickly flicked through the pages, trying to not be drawn to the graphic pictures that showed Tash being tortured. Out of all of them, the one framing the poor girl with her face covered in her rapist's semen was the one that Brooke found the most disgusting. She skimmed the text, searching for any lead that she might be able to take.

"Is there anything I can use?"

"I don't think so. It does look like the feds have done everything they can. What you can do however is..."

He took a minute to think whether or not he should even be suggesting this.

"If you do it carefully and with respect. And I mean with all the care in the world."

Brooke nodded her head, anxious to find out what he was having second doubts about saying.

"Her parents' address is listed on here. It's about a day's drive or a couple hours by plane. Maybe they can provide you with something to write a piece on. With their permission of course."

Brooke shut the file for a moment and then stared back at James. She wanted to thank him somehow for putting his neck out for her. It couldn't have been easy getting this file for her. He must have had to cash in a bunch of favours.

Appreciating what he had done, Brooke let him kiss her and she kissed him back. Their lips parted together as they held onto one another in an increasingly tightening embrace. His hands went to unbutton her shirt and she allowed him. Never being one for patience, he ripped off several buttons that wouldn't come loose fast enough. She then pulled his hand to her breasts, having him feel her whilst she enjoyed his company, lost in between their motions. It was only when he started getting a little rougher that she decision to stop.

"What's wrong? Did I do something?"

No he didn't. He had done everything just right. Her heart wanted him and it protested against her stopping by beating a million beats a minute. Only her brain told her to stop it.

The forcefulness of him took her back a week ago back to Andrew's apartment where he had coerced her into stripping and giving him a blowjob. She tried to ignore it but she couldn't. It made her want to stop, even while she was with a man that she had one point in her life, loved so affectionately.

And then there was the pink bra under the sofa cushion that Brooke had seen but chosen to ignore when she had first scanned the apartment. She pulled it from under her and held it out to James. There was nothing accusing about the way she did it, she didn't even hold any ill will over James for not telling her. All she was doing was merely pointing it out.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I started cross-dressing?"

"Holly's?"

"Look Brooke, we're just seeing each other from time to time. We haven't even gone on a date yet or talked about not seeing other people."

"But you like her or else you wouldn't have taken her here. You would have gone to her's instead."

She hatred the fact that she knew him so well. She hatred the way he nodded in agreement even worse. It cut like a deep wound.

"Does she make you happy?"

He poured salt into her cut by nodding again. The tiny grains stung as it soured her heart.

Brooke redid the buttons of her shirt the best that she could before getting up from the sofa. She was happy for him, she really was despite being close to tearing up. Leaning over, she kissed his cheek and then turned to leave, almost forgetting the file that he had gotten for her.

"Hey Brooke, be careful."

She turned to James just as she was about to leave through the door. Looking at him and smiling one last time before she left, Brooke nodded her head, reassuring him.

Offline archon1980

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Re: Investigative Reporting
« Reply #5 on: November 15, 2018, 03:01:15 PM »
OMG.  I love this.  I'm (secretly) hoping that Miss Brooke will be joining Tash and her ginger room mates... :drool:
“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” William Shakespeare.

Offline surferchick

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Re: Investigative Reporting
« Reply #6 on: November 23, 2018, 06:49:52 AM »
I really love how this goes and I really hope for serious trouble for Brooke. Please go on as fast as possible.

Offline Beater

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Re: Investigative Reporting
« Reply #7 on: November 23, 2018, 07:40:22 AM »
I'm writing it now as I speak so it shouldn't be as long as a wait as last time. And yes, by the end of it, Brooke is going to get into some serious trouble but not just yet. The next chapter however gets real dicey but it should finish the set up for the actual abuse to take place.

Offline surferchick

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Re: Investigative Reporting
« Reply #8 on: November 23, 2018, 09:12:01 AM »
I really can’t await. And yes i Love Long Story set ups. They make every story much better.
So I will press the refresh button now in 10 minutes time.  :coffeespew:

Offline Beater

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Re: Investigative Reporting
« Reply #9 on: November 24, 2018, 07:24:59 AM »
It was already the past noon when Peter woke up. Morning had passed him by today, just like it had yesterday and the day before that. In fact, it was rare for him to find the strength to wake up before one in the evening. These days, life never gave him any reason to do so.

It had been especially difficult this week. He hadn't wanted to get out of bed since Sunday. There wasn't much point anyway, not when everything was just so pointless and meaningless. Closing his eyes again to try and steal away just a couple more minutes from his sleep depriving insomnia, he strayed still while his mind buried him in sadness. Despite being in his 50s, Peter began to cry like a small child.

Tears stung his blue eyes and ran down his aged face. Clutching hold of his now silver hair, he realised just why he had been so upset over the week leading up to now. Today was supposed to be his wife's birthday. Maria should have been 43 today. He should have woken up early to surprised his beautiful wife with breakfast in bed. Turning to her side of the bed, he saw it empty with no one having laid there for over a month.

With the bedroom curtains all fully drawn shut, Peter remained in the gloomy darkness as he clung on to his memories of his wife, petrified that he would forget them. Heartbreakingly, he had already forgotten the sound of her laughter. Now the memories of her smile were also fading.

Surely he must have made her laugh at least once during their 22 years of marital bliss. Maybe at their wedding or maybe on a date. Did he make her laugh when they first met? If not, then what about during all those years when they had raised Tash together?

In trying to remember his wife, Peter unintentionally opened up another wound that pierced even deeper into his heart. The sadness was now gut wrenching. He wanted so desperately for it to stop but the knife just kept slicing in further.

The thought of not knowing where his daughter was killed him. He knew for a fact that not knowing where or what was being done to their daughter, had killed Maria. After they had found those demonic videos online, Maria was never the same. No amount of therapy or drugs could help a mother after she had watched her daughter being raped and tortured over and over again.

Peter had begged his wife not to go looking for them. The pictures that the authorities had shown them had been enough for him but Maria had needed more. She was holding onto the slimmer of hope that those horrible pictures were fake. That this was just some sort of sick joke and that Tash was going to come back home any day now. When she did find those videos, it destroyed her.

A good while later while he was wiping away his tears, Peter's phone started to vibrate on the bedside table. The device bounced on the table top, moving its way slowly to the ledge. He stopped it just as it was about to fall off and then looked at the caller id. Confused that it was a unknown number, he was cautious about answering it as he was in no mood to deal with advertising. His thumb slid over to the red disconnect button which he prepared to side just as his stopped ringing. He must have been too slow.

Then his phone rung again. It was the same number and had been dialled straight away after Peter hadn't answered. Someone must have been really needed to talk to him. Thinking as quickly as he could, his searched out to a list of people that he could think of who would have been calling him. The thing was that he had all of them saved on his phone meaning that none of them should have shown up as an unknown number. More out of curiosity than anything, he answered.

"Hello?"

"Um hi. Am I speaking to Peter Edwards?"

"Yes."

"Hi, my name is Brooke Paris. I'm a reporter with Sunnyville News. I'm sorry to bother you sir but I was wondering if you had a moment to talk. I...um... I received an usb drive that I believe unfortunately might be connected to the disappearance of your daughter. Could it...would it be possible for me to meet you anytime?"


One week later.

As she made her way out of the car, Brooke played the conversation that she had with Peter Edwards back in her head. God she wanted to smack herself. Was it even possible for her to be more tasteless? She had tried to be as tactful and delicate as she could but thinking back to it now, she couldn't help but imagine that she must have sounded like an ice cold bitch.

Walking up to the house, she wondered if it would be for the best that she just left. What on earth was she doing here anyway? Bothering a nice old man whose wife had died just this month and whose daughter had been missing for a year. The right thing for her to do would have been for her to get back into her Toyota and leave.

Oh Mr Edwards sir, I know that your wife just died and that your daughter has been kidnapped but could I have an interview with you anyway?

Disappointed in herself more than anything else, Brooke took a moment to try and stop throwing self harming mental jabs. This wasn't the kind of reporter that she wanted to be. She despised those asshole journalists that willingly fucked people over for a story.

Snapping out of autopilot as she ceased her self loathing evaluation, she looked up at the Edwards home and admired the grandness of the old building. The house was massive compared to her lousy apartment but then again, that wasn't exactly a testing comparison. She wasn't quite sure whether or not the victorian style home was big enough to be classed as a mansion but it had to be getting up there. The wooden archways and neat details looked magnificent, as did the garden, even if what she imagined to be once living roses were now dead.

Somehow, despite of the beauty of the house, there was something miserable about the building as if sadness leaked out of it like invisible smoke. It probably didn't used to be this way. Brooke could envision Mr Edwards siting on the front patio with his wife while Tash played in the garden. It partially reminded Brooke of her own childhood. How life was so much simpler back then. At times like these, she wanted to so badly be allowed to go back to innocence. A world where kidnappings, death, rape, torture and dark net films didn't exist.

Knowing that she could never go back the bliss of ignorance, Brooke rung the door bell and then waited for for a shadowy figure to appear on the other side. Through the tinted glass, she watched as Peter Edwards unlocked the door. She couldn't even begin to imagine what this must have been like for him. Composing herself before he opened up his home, she reminded herself to be professional.

"Good evening sir. I'm sorry for being a little early."

"You must be Brooke."

"Yes sir and you must be Mr Edwards."

"Please, call me Peter. Come on in."

Peter was in his late 50s and it looked like these last few years hadn't been kind to him. He looked a lot older than the last picture of him that Brooke had found online. His face was sad, even when he smiled at her. She smiled back at him with sympathy. Quickly scanning him whilst he let her inside, he was wearing a dark green polo shirt and pair of jeans along with some lofters. Overall, he looked smart but casual with only his unshaven beard looking out of place.

Inside, the interior of the house was just as nice as it was outside. Rich mahogany tiles made up the flooring with comfy looking indian rugs placed under every item of furniture to avoid damaging it. Not daring to step any further into the house with her high heels on, Brooke took of her shoes, rushing to remove them to not be a hassle whilst Peter kept on walking. He had made it to the living room before noticing that Brooke hadn't followed him.

"Oh Brooke, that isn't necessary. You don't need to take your shoes off if you don't want to."

"It's okay Mr Edwards...I mean Peter. It's just I would never be able to forgive myself if I ruined your floors."

He smiled gratefully at her and her gesture, perhaps wondering about the last time he had even thought about the wooden flooring. It must have seemed non important to him now but Brooke took off her heels in any case before once again joining him.

The living room of the house was just what Brooke had expected it to be like. A coffee table served as the centrepiece with today's newspaper resting on top of it. Two sofas were located strategically around it, within the span of a large flatscreen TV. Beyond what was regular for the furnishings of a lounge, there wasn't too much within the room. An oil painting and mirror hung from two different walls and a fancy looking globe was found in a corner. The only thing else was a little toy rocking horse that sat as a weird but effective decoration, bringing the room together with a degree of quirkiness.

Peter motioned for Brooke to take a seat, gesturing at the comfy looking set of sofas. She nodded her head and went to the middle of the slightly smaller of the two, dropping her bag to her right and then adjusting her navy blue summer dress for her to sit down. Peter then took a seat on the other sofa, joining her by the coffee table.

"Oh I'm sorry, I don't get too many guests these days and I completely forgot. Would you like something to drink? I've got some ice tea and some fruit juice, or maybe I could get you a coffee or tea or maybe a glass of water..."

"That's okay Peter. Thank you for the offer."

She smiled at him and he relaxed. Having read up on him before she even called him, he wasn't at all what Brooke had expected. A self made business man who had worked hard for everything he had gotten, despite of his charity work, she had expected him to be firm and decisive. In person, he was kind of dorky in an adorable sort of way. He reminded her a little of her friend Cynthia.

"Before we start Peter, I want to apologise for the timing of my call and visit. I'm very sorry about your wife."

She looked away from him as she apologised. Not because she wasn't being sincere but rather because she really did mean it. Peter forgive her a lot easier than she was willing to forgive herself.

"Also before we start, I want to inform you that you don't need to tell me anything that you don't want to tell me. If you want to, we can stop this interview at any time and you have my word that I'll try my best to be as respectful as I can."

"Thank you."

"It's the least I can do Peter."

She went back to being able to look him in the eye afterwards. That little monologue had been as helpful to her as it had been to Peter. A little bit of self reassurance that she wasn't a completely shitty human being. She took out her notebook and then placed her phone on the coffee table in clear view, making sure that he could see it before she pressed record.

"Where would you feel most comfortable beginning Peter? We can do this whichever way makes you feel most comfortable."

She watched as his face sagged down and then it was his turn to look away. The pain that was etched on his face was understandable and he spent a minute just staring out into nothingness. Brooke let him take his time, sharing in his lost.

"I don't really know where to start. Maria was the one who wanted to go to news agencies. I think she might have been the one who might have sent you the memory stick. She sent a bunch of them to every news agency she could find, hoping that the publicity would help find Tash but we never really heard back from any of them."

"No one ran the story?" Brooke was shocked that she had never seen this story being covered in the mainstream media. A story this shocking should have made the channels.

"We got a few replies from reporters saying that they ran it by the editors who shut them down. Apparently it was too graphic for their target audiences. The only time it was shown was when some religious ass wipe tied showing it as justification that this country was losing its moral standing due to the separation of church and state."

Fuck that bastard. Brooke was fully aware that people like that existed in her industry but it took her anyway. Things like that always made her question her own faith when injustice and cruelty seemed to go unpunished. Never mind that, why were they even allowed to happen in the first place? She hatred the broken and stupid old copout that claimed everything happens for a reason.

"I promise that I'm not going to try and spin this interview anyway like that Peter. I admit, my editor doesn't actually know I'm here and the news station I work for isn't big anyway but I have a blog and I give you my word that I'll do everything in my power to make sure people hear about what happened to Tash."

Peter looked at her and saw that she was being truthful. There was a determined steel in her eyes and a passionate fire burned in her heart. He was speaking to someone who really cared.

"It all began last winter. Tash went out with some of her friends. Apparently they went to a club and then she got separated from her friends. She just seemed to vanish after that. No one could find her. There wasn't even anything on CCTV."

"Do you know the name of this club?"

"Rux. It's the local hangout that a lot of the kids go to but there's quite a few adults there as well." Brooke jotted the name down before asking her next question.

"And I'm I correct in saying that you called the police when Tash didn't come back home?"

"We had to wait 24 hours. I know that the police were just following procedure but still. She was just 19 and she was out there alone."

Brooke nodded her head in understanding. She wasn't sure if it was 24 hours or 48 hours before you could report someone as being missing in this state but she understood the frustration that Peter and his wife must had felt. It must have been more convenient for the local authorities to think of Tash as being a runaway.

"After that, they did an investigation but they couldn't find anything. There were search parties for her but nothing. The only thing that was found was her phone, all smashed up and thrown in a dumpster."

As Peter went on with the story, the more Brooke hoped that he would stop. Having read the FBI's file, she knew where the story went next and didn't want to hear Peter telling her it. She started crying along with him when he told the next chapter.

"A couple of weeks later, the police showed us a printout with Tash where everything else was blurred out. They wanted us to identify whether or not it was her. She..."

He took a moment to swallow his pain as his voice broke.

"She was naked in the picture, crying and...it looked like she had been tortured. There were just so many bruises and welts all over her body."

Brooke told him to stray there while she fetched him a glass of water. Searching through the cupboards for a glass, her hands were shaking by the time she found one. Steadying herself to avoid spilling the drink, she bent down and handed it to Peter who now looked hollow broken. He took a sip before taking a large gulp and then placing the empty glass on the coffee table.

"It's okay if you don't want to do this Peter. We can end this interview if you want."

"No no. I...I need to do this. For Maria and Tash."

Brooke nodded again but didn't go back to her seat. She remained crouched by his side and held onto his hand to try and comfort him.

"Maria, she just wanted to believe that it wasn't Tash. She had to make sure and she was the smartest person I've ever met. It took her about a week to learn how to search the dark web. That's where she found more of those videos. They...they were torturing and raping her every single day."

Brooke didn't even realise that she was openly sobbing. Her emotions were now all intertwined. Sadness and empathy for Mr Edwards and pure unbridled rage and disgust at the monsters responsible for this. She wanted to make them pay.

"There was one video where they were making her beg for them to rape her. It...it didn't even sound like her. She was calling herself a cunt and..."

"No please stop! Please just stop talking!"


Brooke rushed out of the room that just seemed to be getting smaller and smaller. She needed fresh air. She needed to get outside. The walls of the corridor closed in on her, preventing her breathing. She felt sick. She was about to throw up if she didn't manage to make it outside.

Not wearing any shoes, Brooke lunged out barefoot into the gravel garden. She hunched over and took on deep breaths. Oh god what was happening? Why couldn't she breathe?

"Brooke! Are you alright?"

Peter Edwards had rushed out after her. His face was full of concern, having witnessed her freak out. When her breathing returned to normal and unexplained fit of sudden claustrophobia passed, she looked back at him, embarrassed by her actions.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what happened. I just needed to get out there. I've seen two of the films and I just couldn't hear what happens in them again."

She couldn't bear to look at him. He must have hatred her. He had to. Here he was, having gone through such overwhelming emotional trauma and she was the one that had broke first. As he looked down at her, hunched over and crying like a stupid child, he must have thought of her as such a selfish and shallow person.

Why was she even thinking like that? Why was she being so harsh and unfair on herself? She never thought of herself as being shallow or selfish. That wasn't who she was and yet she almost needed this self loathing and guilt. It never even once occurred to her that Andrew had used those exact words to coerce her into crawling under a table and blowing him.

"Brooke, it's okay. If anything, I'm glad you care so much. I...when I first saw the films, I didn't know what to do either. I was just so angry about everything. In many ways, I still am. Maria was the strong one and Tash was a lot like her. Deep down, I believe she's still fighting so I'm not going to give up on her and I can tell that you're not going to either."

Listening to his words, Brooke wiped away the tears from her eyes and got back up. She was tougher than this. She was stronger than this. Her stunning beauty hid was supported by a determined and steady core. It just been a bad and hard week, that's all.

"I'm sorry about that Peter. If it's alright with you, I would like to continue our interview. How about telling me what Tash is like."

"She was always smiling and loved animals, especially horses and dogs. Her grades weren't too great and she would struggle a bit in classes but she was the captain of the netball team..."


30 minutes after finishing her interview with Peter Edwards, Brooke's old Toyota pulled into the crappy motel that she was straying at. Peter had been kind enough to offer her a place to stray but she didn't want to impose him. Taking advantage of his generosity just wouldn't have been right, regardless of how filthy her cheap room was.

She wasn't straying long in this town anyway, planning on only straying for one night before heading back home. Having not been able to afford flying here, she had driven the entire way here and was now both emotionally and physically drained. As unpleasant as the motel bed was, it called out to her with a siren's song, drawing her in as if she was bewitched.

She probably could have fallen asleep right then and there and not have woken for hours. Tired and exhausted, she wouldn't have even cared about the bed bugs and gross looking strains. The promise of rest was that alluring to her and she almost submitted to the sandman's will.

Brooke knew that she couldn't sleep just yet. If she did, then she probably wouldn't have been able to force herself to do what she needed to do. Shaking like she was signing her own death sentence, she rummaged through her bag and took out the five CD cases that Mr Edwards had given her. She placed each one down, lining them on the bed.

Looking at the cases, her brain yelled at her to take each one and smash them into tiny little pieces. That's exactly what she wanted to do and unconsciously, she reached out to do just that before stopping herself. If she smashed the CDs, then she would have been breaking the promise that she had made to Mr Edwards. She swore that she would do everything that she could to find Tash and she needed these CDs for that.

Closing her eyes, she took a couple of minutes to decide whether or not she was really about to do this. Through a noble combination of bravery, nativity and stubbornness, she realised that she was, despite knowing that she would regret it. Never once in her life had she imagined that she would be willing to put herself through this.

Making up her mind, Brooke searched inside her bag once again, feeling around inside it until her fingers found her phone. Pulling it out, she opened up her contracts and then scrolled down to the number that she had been avoiding all week. The asshole had called her 76 times and not once had she answered or replied. Even the thought of hearing his voice made her sick but she forced herself to swallow her pride and call him.

"Andrew. Listen, I found some more films that I want you to look at. If there's anyone who can find something from them it's you. I'm out of town right now but I'm heading back tomorrow and I can deliver them to you."

She waited while he made a joke about her having threatened to castrate him the last time they had met. He then asked why he should help her, toying with her almost like he knew what Brooke was going to tell him next.

"I want to make a deal with you, if you find out where Tash is being held, I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

She let her words linger, allowing that man child to form all sort of disgusting fantasies within his head.

"I never did ask, you enjoyed me sucking your big cock didn't you? Imagine what it would be like to have all of me."

He mockingly complimented her phone sex talk and then tested to see exactly how far he could push her. She gulped and then cutely bit her bottom lip in anxiousness before managing to agree.

"Okay yes. I'll even let you fuck me up my ass."

The next part had to be negotiated with her not expecting the question. Surely he couldn't be serious.

"Not for a week. I'm not going to be your personal fuck toy for a week."

For three days?

Just three days where she would have to fuck him whenever he wanted. Brooke wondered if her pride would be able to handle three days with this freak. It made her feel disgusting all over as she whored herself out to him.

"Okay. You can have me for three days. If you help me find her, I'll let you do whatever you want with me for three days."

Offline surferchick

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Re: Investigative Reporting
« Reply #10 on: November 24, 2018, 07:53:37 AM »
And another great part....this story will really get round....
Hmmm, now my imagine is spinning what might happen in these three days...

Offline Roleplaying_Dave

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Re: Investigative Reporting
« Reply #11 on: December 21, 2018, 12:28:34 AM »
A great story, keep it up!

Offline Beater

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Re: Investigative Reporting
« Reply #12 on: May 14, 2019, 04:12:59 AM »
Stream had built up quickly after the the shower had been switched on. Warm droplets of evaporated jets, shrouding the room in mist. With her mouth open in a longing, gasping whisper, Brooke breathed in the hot stream. She took it in, welcoming the heat which made her body burn with an aching fever.

Not wanting to let go, she tightened her arms around James, wrapping herself around the detective's shoulders while he kissed her neck under the falling tide. His touch felt good. Little acts of care whilst she drove him closer to a wild rush by grinding herself on top of him, giving her former lover what he needed. She knew exactly where to push him and soon his kisses turned into soft love bites. And then, his bites got harder.

He sunk his teeth into her breast and made her cry out as sharp pain exploded like a pipe bomb of pleasure. Feeling him gnawing down gently on her nipple brought an unexpected degree of satisfaction. Somewhere lost in between the madness of these last few weeks, Brooke had almost forgotten that she kinda liked it when men were rough with her.

She liked that she was strong enough to take it and felt a like it could connect her with her partner in a way which vanilla sex simply didn't allow. The primal urge and hunger that she felt wasn't too bad either. She wanted to roar. She wanted to scream out at the top of lungs and just let everything out. All of the pent up frustration, anger and hate that was boiling away inside of her. Brooke wanted to let it all out whilst she let James fuck her without the need for control.

And he bit down even harder when he was about to cum. Each cathartic thrust felt as great as the one before as their wet bodies collided together. He slammed into her to make it hurt, driving her back first into the shower wall, pressing her firm ass against the cool surface. She kept her legs wrapped around him and refused to let go, wanting to have him in even deeper before it all ended.

She wanted him to just ravage her. She wanted to allow him to do it before it would be forced upon her. Brooke desperately needed it. A buffing sense of herself. She thought she would find it here but all of her senses and all of her thoughts became meaningless in that particular moment. Time stood still as she experienced her first orgasm since the start of the week.

James came as well, grunting as she whimpered, both of them shaking as hit by lightning. Strong and deeply intense, she sighed softly as her's continued, lingering incredible bliss as her now limp body slid down from the wall. She collapsed to the floor and just kept going, shivering in the most amazing way.



From the other room, she heard James protest after hearing her plan. The parts that is, which she was willing to tell him.  "He's a creep Brooke. I don't want you working with him."

"I'll be fine." Brooke lied.

"No listen to me. Look there's never been any complaint against that asshole but there's something about him that just tells me that he ain't right. I mean, do you not remember the way he was staring at you?"

Brooke remained silent this time, not wanting to have to tell another lie. It hurt to lie like this. If she were to tell James the truth then that would have been it. This was her chance to get out of literally having to whore herself out. Just the thought of it made her nauseous. Andrew's perverted stare was the least harmless thing about him. It was his cock and sick mind which scared her.

Thinking about it all threatened to break her down and when James' mobile buzzed on the kitchen top table, Brooke realised just how big of a mistake seeing James again really was. She felt even more raw now than she had on the day long drive back home. The emotions of speaking to Mr Edwards were still ricocheting around her mind, ripping holes through her fragile heart.

What she saw as James' phone lit up didn't help her. His girlfriend, fuck-buddy, casual fling or whatever she was, came up on the screen. She was calling him at this time of night, adding more fuel to an already lit flame. Feelings of regret, lost and resentment drowned her along with everything else. She couldn't help but compare herself to the woman. Someone who had done her nothing wrong. A person that she had never met or even seen before now as a text message then popped up with the type of graphic picture that she didn't want to see. Not so soon after her intimate encounter.

Brooke had left before James had a chance to come back from the bedroom. Arriving there unannounced had been a mistake. She hadn't been thinking right. What she had done wasn't right so she had driven back to her apartment with the additional baggage of feeling shitty about herself.

To her surprise, a parcel was waiting for her by the door. A small white box with a pretty red bow. With the gift came a heart shaped card which Brooke turned around and read. She then crumbled it up in her hand.

From Andrew

If you want my help. Wear this when you come over tomorrow.

XXX

 

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