Thread: What Happens to Little Snoops {darkest_fate&DeviantDesire}

And what a pretty face it was. Mrs. Diaz's latest captive was a gorgeous, petite young hing. Strawberry blond hair fell in waves down passed her shoulders, currently restrained into a ponytail with bangs left to sweep out across her forehead, contrasting her light complexion. A pair of black glasses adorned her face. She would usually prefer contacts, but sometimes wanted to appear more 'professional,' and this had certainly seemed like a day for that. Her facial features were soft, youthful and feminine, and also noticeably less sharp and stern as the older woman's. Her body was also a clear show of her youthfulness. An open-at-the-top black vest over a white dress shirt covered her top quite modestly, but her small, though youthfully perky breasts were still noticeable underneath, pushing up against the fabric. A pair of black slacks were tight enough that they barely hid her more blatantly feminine feature curved hips from a thin waist and a rear end that would look plump even for a woman who wasn't the slip of a thing that she was. Nicole or Nikki, as both most of her friends and news anchors giving her introductions preferred Turner was a fresh-out-of-college reporter, working for a local station in the suburb Sunlit Corporations was based out of. A few years back, the then high school senior had been a sheltered, bookish young thing. College had seen to transforming that, however, her newfound freedom and a desire to fit in socially turning her into, quite frankly, one of the many campus sluts. Wild parties, with plenty of drinking and the occasional drug forced onto her, had roughly snatched away her innocence. It was nothing she was proud of, and she tried of late to put that side of her behind, but it was a fact. Despite a lot of unwisely spent time, her natural cleverness had allowed her to do quite well in her classes. Even with that, finding a job in journalism seemed near impossible. Unlike Mercedes, she lacked the certain...authoritativeness that a professional woman needed to be taken seriously, even if she was a serious and rather skilled journalist when allowed to be. So, when she went to interview for the opening at WKTV, it was perhaps unsurprising that her dirty old man of a network executive had made her 'audition' from under his desk. Another blow to the pride of the woman who was trying to put that side of her behind and be appreciated for other talents. Her reputation had spread, clearly, as she found herself the subject of cruel jokes that she would only ever hear little bits of from her colleagues. The sports broadcaster had half forced her out onto a date with him, never calling since, and another of the anchors felt it was his turn next. But no. This lead of her's would prove them all wrong. She'd be looking down at them after all this, from some fancy nationally-broadcasted gig. The excitement of that had caused her to be somewhat reckless, simply walking alone to the corporation headquarters. There was always whispers of surreptitious things being done at Sunlit, but details were scarce. When an insider had given her a key and vague directions on what to look for, she knew she couldn't take it to her higher-ups. They would prefer to have her on some fluff piece about a cheese festival or an animal shelter, and would send a 'real journalist' to this scoop. So instead, she just walked in to the headquarters one night. Having ducked the security guards quite sneakily, she had found a trove of information on Mrs. Diaz computer. Insider trading, price fixing, reports of income from 'shipments' that no specifics were given on, even inklings of connections to shady South American characters. It was better than Nikki could ever have hoped for. Until one of the security guards popped in, sneaking up and grabbing her. She had managed to get a few of the files onto a flash drive, which was slipped into her bra just before the guard was upon her. He somehow missed it in his rather thorough and rude search of her, and then brought her into the little cell. The bare room, along with the fact that she had her cell phone taken from her upon capture, made her more nervous than she tried to let on as she look back into the older Latina woman's eyes. Maybe you have, Mrs. Diaz, the title she gave was respectful, but the way the uppity young reporter said it was anything but, I'm a reporter, and one who is quite interested in you and what you've been up to these last few years. 'Few' wasn't exactly accurate, little did she know. If you brought me here to try to buy me off, don't waste your time. Whatever you have isn't worth what I've found out. The young girl was naive enough that she apparently didn't yet recognize who was in the position of power, here.