Marinah One

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Marinah finished reading the morning Straits Times about the deputy prime minister Anhar being charged on ten counts of corruptions and sodomy. She threw the Times over the table to the couch opposite.

“Asshole”, breathed Marinah. Some people just don’t cover up their tails leaving telltale signs all over the place. Sex scandals, sodomy, incest and the likes are no big deals to her. She has experienced them since she was 14.

She leaned back her luxurious executive couch on the eightieth floor of the brand new, gleaming Petronas Twin Tower in Kuala Lumpur, swivelled the couch to face the window that framed the famous skyline of metropolitan city of Kuala Lumpur and focused on her penthouse in Trivolla in Petaling Jaya, 20 km out of the city, where she lived. This completely furnished luxurious apartment with he best view, was given to her by Boonchai, the company’s accountant, when she audited his books and could not account for the missing 6 million Malaysian dollars. She remembered how arrogant this Boonchai was when she queried him on the unaccounted special expenditure for the year 1997.

“Ask Tan Sri Nohar, the chairman, I follow orders”

“All right, Boon, I will, but before I do that, remember you are the chartered accountant and are legally responsible for the missing money, not the chairman. I give you up to 4 PM today”, and left. At the age of 27, Marinah is Petronas maverick Chief Internal

Auditor renowned for her uncanny capability to unravel secret accounts, unexplainable expenditures of high officials to donations, sponsorship of organizations, unscheduled overseas expenses…… nothing escaped her dark eyes. Standing at 5 ft 4 inches, 120 lbs, vital stats of 36-32-35, she loomed higher than the tallest tower in the world on those caught doctoring the finances of the company. She looked down at her slim sleek pair of legs which had fallen many men and kicked loose her 5 inch spiked high heel pumps, one of the hundreds of shoes, given her by her victims. She is neat, she is smart, she is Machiavellian. She is a sex maniac. She glanced towards the High Court. The time is 10.00 a.m. Anhar is due to be grilled at the stand today. The handphone beeped. “Yes?” “Marinah? Something urgent has cropped up. I need to go to Berne tomorrow. Can I see you tonight? My chauffeur will pick you up at the basement at 7 P.M. tonight. Will that be ok?” “OK” Marinah clipped off the phone and wondered what numbered account this Wahab is opening at the Swiss bank this time. Every time he went overseas, he called her. She rose and walked towards her Louis Vuitton valise and examined the content. He will need some or all of these tonight. She then opened the closet, scanned through the clothes, and smiled.

Her fax machine began spewing out meters of texts and figures. Her diagonal reading spotted the discrepencies in the figures compared to the memorandum. She punched a few numbers, gave instructions, faxed back a few queries, and was about to make herself a cup of coffee when the fax machine again spewed out more information. The bosses marvelled her inside knowledge. She had her methods. Time to get busy. A few heads will roll.

Marinah scanned through the two faxes, reading in parallel, dark eyes fleeting between the two intestines of data; circled a few figures, question marks, exclamation marks, arrows.

She then passed the two faxes through the scanner, saved to her computer and began to scroll, cut and paste, compared the figures on two windows, recalled some data from the company database, called up her own self programmed data analysis module and set the machine to run at 600mhz. She is one of the few in the company who has access to the company’s innermost data online. The analysis took some time. She had a lot of time –the victims did not.

She walked over to the closet again, selected the outfits and packed them into the valise, snap closed and locked the valise with her infra red coder which doubled as a cellular telephone, beeper, decoder and stun gun which could deliver 30 000 volts, knocking out a person instantly. She had no need for the gun so far. The computer beeped completion of the data analysis. Marinah sat scrolling down the data, analyzing the machine analysis. The machine reported nothing abnormal detected. She smiled. The thief or thieves were getting smarter. They beat the machine. She recalled a few sets of data and set up the multi level randomized SQL which signalled to her that that query would take 18 hours. She set the machine to analyze using javascripts and algols and the blinding analysis was completed in two hours. The printer purred out the hard copy 5 fans long. She whipped it off the printer and started to scan the final data. As she zoomed down the lines, her dark eyes widened, startled, and when she reached the end of the pages she sat back and smiled. Going back to the computer, she encrypted the last analysis using her own designed encryption method, which beat the USA NASA encryption protocol. She committed Anadolu Yakası Escort the hard copy to her photographic memory, double shredded the printout to millions of pieces, one millimeter square. She sat on her couch and swivelled to the skyline again, thinking, analyzing some facts the machine cannot tell her. Why should the company bail out the banks? Why are there so many non performing loans (NPL) and why are the borrowers not paying up? Who are the borrowers? The national petroleum company, Petronas, pumping out 1 million dollars a day – free petrodollars- is reporting a deficit for the year 2000?

Hmm, interesting.

She picked up the phone and put it back again. Ask no questions and you get no lies.

She connected up to the internet, bypassing Measat, the national satellite, keyed in the queries in algols and waited. The screen blinked, blacked out to a cursor. She punched in her ID. Slowly the screen scrolled down strings of gibberish of 0’s and 1’s, which only she could understand. She flipped down the monitor radiation screen, which doubled as a decoder. Outsiders will see the screen showing normal company data while the downloading is working in the background. In fact nobody ever came into her office. The decoder screen is for the benefit of the company in house security cameras. The computer beeped signalling the end of the download. She sent the data to printer and it purred out 5 fans of informations in 0’s and 1’s.

She sat back to read the printout like reading newspaper and chuckled. The heads were counted. They will roll. This time the printout was shredded once. Nobody here knew how to read this anyway. heh heh.

She looked up the clock … Time for lunch. She wiggled into her pumps. adjusted her sarong kebaya and left the room. She skipped the bank of elevators into the private one exclusively for senior officers. Since the elevator did not stop at each floor the deceleration had been fatal to many heart cases. To Marinah this sudden force of falling acted as a stimulus to her. She passed the huge ground floor plaza to a quiet dining room at the back, ordered her usual hamburger, and carrot juice. The regular crowd of senior officers looked at her lunch and wondered why she ate such small lunches and many had thought of offering her lunch, but dared not. She finished her lunch in ten minutes and left the building, hailed a taxi to the jujitsu dojo at Jalan Masjid India.

At 2.30 she was back at her desk to see another 5 meters of faxes which she expected this morning. She went through the encrypted faxes, nodded her head and shredded the faxes.

Her personal secretary intercomed in that the weekly budget expenditure meeting was on at 3 pm. She replied she was busy. After attending 3 of these meetings, Marinah concluded that this meeting was just a sideshow and was a waste of her time.

She went through the days routine files and her minutes to the staff were: reply suitably, kiv one week, or nfa (no further actions); tossed the lot into the out tray and pressed the button. The files were removed.

Marinah glanced at the clock, 4 pm…. time to hook up with Wall street….. Hmm…. very interesting…….

By the time she had finished surfing she flipped to Wall Street again for the afternoon reading. As she expected, the screen had turned three quarter red. The staff had gone one hour ago. She punched a few keys on her remote controller. The bath was turned on, set for 27 degrees centigrade, and auto cut off. The fluctuating colors of the screen signalled danger and she felt a usual stirring in her groins. She excelled in danger.

Kicking off her pumps, she walked barefoot across the wall-to-wall carpeted office to the bathroom. She wiggled out of her sarong kebaya, removed her bras and panty and examined herself in front of the full length mirror. Firm succulent breasts jutting out defiantly, solid butts like two scoops of icecreams stuck together, long slim legs that appeared to stretch from toes to her breasts. She examined her pouting lips closely and found no injury from this afternoon’s jujitsu combat.

She eased herself into the warm bath, leaned back on the head rest and slowly her hand went to her clit. She woke up exactly one hour fresh, relaxed and vibrant. She turned on a sudden blast of cold water tightening her body and felt her clit harden again. What a nice feeling.

She stepped out of the bath, and walked naked to the closet in the office, selected the leather outfit, with cut out bra, black 5 inch heel boots which covered up to her thighs. Marinah then put a fresh sarong kebaya over her outfit, left the office with the valise, for the elevator to the basement and stepped into the awaiting latest mercedes e 280 series.

All company directors are given the latest mercedes.

“Hamzah, turn up the air conditioning, it is too warm in here” Marinah told the driver. As the black limousine zipped through the basement up to the ground floor, the street Pendik Escort light cast a silhouette of the driver. This driver has a face of a roasted pig, thought Marinah.

The car reached the basement of the hotel. Marinah took the elevator to the sixth floor restaurant, Suasa on the Sixth.

“Miss Marinah, Good evening, Tan Sri Wahab is waiting ” and the captain led her to a dimmed private dining room.

Wahab rose, “thank you, Marinah for coming. I have ordered your favorite cuisine. Would you like to have some others tonight?”

Instantly the captain produced the menu to Marinah. She viewed at the menu ordered, turned the pages and noticed Wahab was starring at her nipples below the thin native blouse.

” I think what you have ordered is excellent for me tonight, thank you very much, Wahab.”

“you are most welcome, my dear”, Wahab beamed at the nipples.

“That will be all” Wahab told the captain, “serve the dinner please”

They ate their six course dinner while Wahab spoke at low tone on the reasons for going to Berne so urgently tomorrow. He complemented on her beauty tonight. He spoke about the present financial situation in the country and also about his problems with his four wives and children.

Marinah listened politely, smiled and laughed infectiously at Wahab as if he was telling her lots of jokes.

Walls have ears.

When Wahab eats, the captain never sleeps

When dinner was finished, Wahab brought out his usual cigar. The captain instantly offered to prepare the cigar and lit it for Wahab.

“I hope you don’t mind my cigar, Marinah, I know you don’t smoke”

“Not at all, Wahab, you enjoy yourself,”smiled Marinah. That fucking cigar is going up your ass tonight.

The cigar relaxed Wahab. He began to detail to Marinah the recent scandals in town, the coming financial market collapse, the current political scene and his opinions on them. Marinah listened politely but intently, smiling all the time and responded to each of his serious opinion with peels of infectious laughter. The captain and waiters were caught up with Marinah’s laughter and smiled happily along, hearing nothing.

The dessert came and gone.

Finally, Wahab got up, took the chair for Marinah and said to the captain,”congratulations to the chef and the staff”

“Thank you, Tan Sri”

The limousine waited purring at the basement elevator door. The couple stepped in and Wahab told the pig, “Astoria Penthouse”, one of the many penthouses owned by the merchant bank of which Wahab is the managing director.

Wahab pressed a button and the one way glass partition rose, separating the driver from the passenger behind. Wahab slid his hand to Marinah’s thigh and her clit tightened.

Astoria loomed in front and the merc went through the gate, past the fountain, and right to the elevator door. Marinah picked her valise and followed Wahab to the penthouse. Wahab closed the door of the luxurious penthouse with a great view of Paintai and Bangsar. Marinah lashed out a stunning reverse neck blow to Wahab and as he collapsed on Marinah’s back, she sent him with a fireman’s throw, somersaulting onto the couch nearby. The penthouse maid discretely drew the curtains and reclused to her quarters, knowing and seeing nothing.

Marinah walked to the bedroom, removed her sarong kebaya and looked at the full size mirror. She looked stunning in her black leather jacket with protruding breasts, leather pants with the crotch opened and the all glorious pair of thigh high boots. She opened her valise, slipped on the spiked wrist bands, spiked neck cuff, clipped on the spurs to her boots and her renowned dick strangler to her waist.

She filled the good old rubber water bottle with warm water, connect it to a tubing and bakelite canula. Leather tongs, lashes, cat-o-nine tail, ball crusher, acupuncture needles, electric wires, canulas…….. wait she forgot the mouth gag. She looked in the bathroom but cant find any sponge; insulating tape is too messy. She walked to the kitchen fridge, removed a tray of ice cubes, still thinking of the gag………..ah!.. a large duck egg will do. She needled a hole in the egg and cooked it rock hard in the microwave.

Now to work on this faggot.

When Marinah entered the living room, Wahab had recovered from the blow. “Darling, what is that for?”

“Shut up, faggot, strip!”

Wahab got up from the couch and pleaded to Marinah.

Marinah continued walking to the bathroom. Wahab followed pleading. At the bedroom, Marinah jabbed the leather tong at Wahab’s solar plexus at the same time pushing the duck egg into his mouth. That stopped the faggot’s howling. Marinah is renowned to be the only female bdsm expert in Kuala Lumpur. She could bdsm execute anyone and nobody can hear a sound from the disciplined.

Marinah was amused that the duck egg she selected was big enough to gag him and not too small for him to dislodge it himself. Now that Wahab Kurtköy Escort is speechless, she had to see his body language to her questions. She approached Wahab. “You want me, don’t you, baby?” She continued to gyrate her body at Wahab, near enough to tantalize but too far for him to touch. “Now, take your clothes off, and you can have me.”

He rushed at her to grab her boobs. She sidestepped, turned, tripped him and delivered a sharp crack of the leather tong to his ass as he fell onto the bed.

Not every bdsm slave is the same to be tortured or tormented in the same manner. The slave can only reached orgasm when he is stimulated to his tolerated ideal extreme. The torture can be physical or psychological. The aim of bdsm is to assist the slave to reach his goal, orgasm, by subjecting him to such extrasensory stimuli which vary from person to person. Marinah knew very well this Wahab case.

Wahab has a complex on his dick, which he thinks is too small. He can only fuck his wife in the dark. His wife must suck his cock to get it up. He will never do oral on his wife but strangely enough, he will do it to his master if he is tormented ideally enough by way of challenging his intelligence. His continuous boasting of what he knew of the local market at dinner confirmed this. He responds to titillating violence. So such disciplines like tying up, nailing the hands to the floor, would not work.

Wahab was pounding the bed trying to get the egg out of his mouth.

“You want the egg off the mouth?” He nodded his head “Then remove your clothes.” Wahab protested with hands waving on the bed.

Another sharp crack on his pants. He jerked. Crack….. crack…………….. crack………. Marinah noticed that he was enjoying the titillating whipping. She continued and Wahab jerked his dick into the mattress. One more crack and as the body arched upwards, Marinah turned the body face upwards and noticed that his dick was stretching against his pants.

“Well, now, young man, your dick is getting bigger. Let me have a look”

Wahab waved his hands in protest……… crack this time the leather straps landed on the dick and he covered it as if in pain.

Marinah knew it was not painful. This fucking old man is enjoying the whipping. faggot.

One crack on the left foot and the Balley shoe flew out. Another one to the right.

Marinah stroke the straps over the dick saying the dick is getting bigger. This went on for quite a while till the dick was largest. She gave a sharp painful crack to the dick and Wahab doubled up in foetal position.

“You want to fuck, Wahab? Then strip”

Wahab laid silent. Marinah knew he was angry for letting his dick down. The whole aim of this bdsm treatment on Wahab was to let him get his best orgasm through his tolerable ideal stimulation. It would be plain easy to let him come easily but he would not be satisfied. When this faggot reached orgasm, he should be totally exhausted.

Marinah walked over to the window and scanned the skyline of the neighborhood. It was a great sight, orange from the nearby apartment blocks and fluorescent white at the Damansara side.

Wahab turned to watch Marinah. She knew that. She turned to look directly away from him so that her tight ass on top of the slim legs are facing him. She opened her legs, elbow on the railing and bent forward to the window allowing the skylinght to trace out her subtle body to Wahab. Marinah gyrated from one leg to another watching the cars below.

Slowly Wahab reached his hand into his dick and began to masturbate to a rock hard cock. Silently he got out of bed and crept behind Marinah whose legs were apart and her cunt line glowing pink against the leather pants. Wahab grabbed her ass and shoved his cock forward into Marinah.

Wahab threw up his hands and arched backwards in pain, trying in vain, to get away from Marinah.

Standing on a 5 inch boots Marinah was taller than Wahab. She had looped over her belt and between the legs two innocent cords, criss- crossed twice. Wahab’s dick went into one of the loops and as Marinah straightened her body, the double crissed loop moved in like a double guillotine on the cock. Marinah bent forward again, releasing the enstrangled cock and walked for the tray of ice cubes. Wahab fell back onto the bed holding to his strangulated shrunken cock.

“Poor baby, you rammed your cock into my leather strap again”, said Marinah as she sat next to him running one ice cube up and down his receding shaft. Marinah noticed that the cock had become shorter than she saw last time. “Wahab, didn’t you contact Icqman about enlarging the size of your cock? I gave you his number. “

At the fifth ice cube, Wahab’s pants was drenched and he automatically got up and took it off. His mother taught him that wet clothes are unclean.

Marinah lay on the bed with her legs wide open and boobs jutting up, while Wahab took off his pants and trousers. Wahab watched Marinah’s glistening cunt while she rolled her nipples. Marinah knew there was no way Wahab could fuck her as he was on ice. She turned over her body arched up her ass and stretched like a cat on the bed. There was no danger of attack from a shrunken cock. I will rest for a while till his cock warm up.

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