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Career Opportunities 3/4
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
CAREER OPPORTUNITIES 3/4
By Parker
WARNING: This story does not contain a whole heck of a lot
of sex. What it does contain is a good deal of domination
and humiliation. If you don't want to read about such
things, don't read this story.
Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute
(unaltered, of course), but be discrete. Thanks.
=================================================================
By the end of the week, Baxter was no longer with the
Company. No reasons were given; no memos were circulated or
tributes made. When people came in for work Friday morning, he
was simply not there and his office was cleaned out. Of course,
rumours circulated. Stories with varying levels of credibility
spread like wildfire, each allegedly coming from someone who had
heard from someone "in the know".
But no one knew for certain.
Barbara Dahlton, however, had a pretty good idea. At first
she had been almost glad that Baxter had "disappeared". No more
being forced to act like she enjoyed being with him. Then,
however, the realization set in: if Baxter had been fired and/or
arrested, she would be next. They had been running their
embezzlement scheme since the beginning of the week, and well
over $100,000 now sat in a special bank account to which only she
had access. Somehow, someone must have found out about the scam.
She was absolutely certain that Baxter had been taken by the
police, and that she would be next. That was why, when the knock
came on her office door at mid-morning, she almost jumped out of
her seat. It was them.
The police.
No. It was Brad Tymmens and that little blonde bitch Carol
Fawkner. Barbara frowned, angry that her secretary hadn't
screened the visitors - where was Susan anyway? - but grudgingly
let her two co-workers into her office. "What is it?" she asked.
"I don't have much time." No point in spending her last free
moments talking with these jerks.
Carol threw a manila folder onto Barbara's desk. "Take a
look," she ordered. Barbara didn't appreciate the younger woman's
tone of voice, but nevertheless obeyed. It didn't really matter
much any more what...
Oh god! It was all there: computer printouts detailing the
alterations to the accounting program; individual entries setting
out the diversion of each sum to the private account...
Everything.
Barbara fought to retain her composure, but felt the sting
of tears in her eyes as she looked up from the folder to the two
people grinning at her from across her office. It was clear to
her now: they had stumbled onto the scheme and brought it to the
attention of the Company. Baxter had been arrested and she was
next. The only reason she was still there was so that these two
assholes would have a chance to gloat. Well, she wouldn't give
them the satisfaction.
"Listen," she said angrily...
"No," Carol interrupted her, "You listen."
And she did.
Brad stood in silence, his admiration growing as Carol told
Barbara just how things were going to be from now on. It was one
thing to plan a course of action, but it was quite another to
confront someone like Barbara face to face, no matter how strong
a position one held. Brad didn't like to admit it, but he was a
little frightened of Barbara. She had been above him on the
corporate ladder for so long now, that he had difficulty
imagining her being anything but his boss.
Carol though... she had some guts.
The plan had been entirely her own; he, Rodney and Phyllis
had helped with some of the details, but Carol had come up with
the idea. Brad had to admit that he had been fooled by her young,
innocent appearance. The sex in the alcove had gone a long way to
dispelling this misconception, and Carol's intentions for Barbara
had completed the process.
It was blackmail, pure and simple. Carol had just over
eleven weeks left with the company before her probation period
ended. Eleven weeks until the process set in motion by Barbara
saw her removal from the job. There was even no need to fire her;
the terms of her contract had called for a review at the end of
the first year of appointment. Unless the Company decided to
renew her contract, she would be out of the job.
And, thanks in large part to Barbara, the prospects for
renewal were bleak.
Carol's plan was simple. At the beginning of each of the
remaining eleven weeks of her employment, Barbara would find a
message on her office e-mail system. That message would contain a
command or set of commands. Those commands were to be carried out
without fail or question. Failure to do so would result in a
certain package being released both to the police and to the
members of the board of directors of the Company. A package
containing explicitly proof of Barbara's involvement in the
embezzlement.
Barbara's eyes narrowed as she considered her options. It
didn't take long: she didn't have too much in the way of options
at that particular moment. She could either go along with this
young bitch (and her idiot helper; musn't forget Tymmens), or she
could certainly forget about her job; probably forget about her
career; and very likely find herself in jail. The thought of jail
made her knees tremble. She found herself gritting her teeth,
biting back a flow of invective that would, in normal
circumstances, be expected to reduce any subordinate to tears.
Eleven weeks... how bad could it be?
And, when those eleven weeks were over, Carol would be gone
from the Company, and Barbara would find a way to get back at
her. And Tymmens... he would very quickly find his position at
the company eliminated.
At the very least.
Barbara made her decision: "Alright," she answered, glaring
at the younger woman. "I'll do what you say. For eleven weeks;
after that, it's over."
Carol nodded in agreement. Barbara stared at her face,
trying to gauge her reaction. Other than a slight flush, the
younger woman betrayed no emotion. Tymmens, on the other hand,
nearly collapsed with obvious relief, sagging up against the
wall. Barbara noted these reactions for further consideration.
"One more thing," Carol said.
Barbara turned her attention back to the young blonde. Now
what?
"We know about the $120,000 embezzlement money in your
account. We want that money."
"B-but..." Barbara sputtered angrily.
Carol ignored her incoherent protests. "I expect a certified
cheque in my tray by the end of the day." This said, she turned
and left Barbara's office, closely followed by Brad.
Barbara stopped arguing. They had her and they knew it.
But in eleven weeks...
*****
WEEK ONE:
Barbara entered her new office and looked around. It was
only temporary - Riker wanted to see how she did as the senior VP
before he made a final decision - but she had no doubt that it
would quickly become permanent. No one in the Company knew
Baxter's job as well as she did. Now all she had to do was prove
it.
There was still, however, the small problem of Brad and that
bitch Carol. Barbara signed on to her computer with some
trepidation. It was Monday, the first day of the first week of
the eleven week period. Sure enough, a quiet beep from the
computer signalled the existence of a new message. Barbara hit
the "message display" command, and watched as the note scrolled
across the screen.
The message was from Carol, alright, but its contents were a
little puzzling. Barbara hadn't really been sure what to expect,
but whatever she had anticipated, this wasn't it. Essentially,
the note ordered her to show up at a local fitness centre,
"Workout World", that evening at 5:00 and sign in under her own
name.
Barbara shrugged her shoulders. It seemed a little weird,
but it could have been worse. She checked her calender; she would
have to reschedule a meeting, but she could be there.
Really, she had little choice.
The girl behind the counter at Workout World - an annoying
little bimbo, Barbara thought angrily, annoyed because the client
had kicked up a fuss at the cancellation of the meeting - punched
the name into the computer. "Here you are," she announced
brightly, "Barbie Dahlton. You're registered..."
"Barbie?" Barbara leaned over to read the name on the
computer screen. Sure enough, it read 'Barbie'. "That's wrong,"
she growled. "My name's Barbara."
"Oh. Sorry." The girl seemed momentarily subdued as she
typed in the correction, but had regained her bounce by the time
she finished. "There," she smiled, "You're all signed up."
Barbara sniffed in annoyance. "What exactly am I signed up
for?" she asked, barely keeping her anger in check.
"Aerobics," the girl answered, looking a little puzzled.
"Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights and Sunday afternoon."
Barbara started to interject, but the girl continued on. "And
afterwards, you've set up a private work out with..." The girl
checked a clipboard. "Trudy." She looked up from the clipboard
and smiled. "She's very good!"
Barbara started to protest, but then fell silent. Obviously,
Carol and Brad had gone to some lengths to enrol her in these
stupid exercise classes. It was humiliating, being forced into it
like this, but not really too much of an imposition. Hell... she
had been thinking about getting into shape for some time now.
She turned to walk away.
"Barbara," the girl called after her, "you still have to pay
for the sessions." Frowning, Barbara returned to the desk to pay.
It was much more expensive than she would have thought, but well
within the limit on her credit card.
Sighing, she entered the locker room to change into workout
clothing...
WEEK TWO:
Barbara dragged herself into her office and flopped down on
the chair. She had considered herself to be in reasonably good
shape (for someone who didn't get much exercise), but a full week
of exercise classes had taught her otherwise. Every muscle in her
body seemed to groan with a deep, aching pain. That bitch Tracy
had been particularly hard on her during that last session on
sunday afternoon. She seemed determined to work every ounce of
fat from Barbara's body.
Groaning with the effort, Barbara reached forward to log
onto her office computer. It was monday morning, and she was
expecting her next set of orders. Sure enough, the quiet beep
from the computer informed her that there was e-mail waiting. She
pushed the appropriate key...
Another surprise appointment.
This time at a beauty salon. Barbara frowned tiredly at the
timing of the appointment: 3:30 that afternoon. She would have to
cancel another client meeting. Resigned, she punched the speaker
button on the intercom. "Phyllis," she ordered (she still had
Baxter's old secretary, a detail she would be changing as soon as
the position became permanent), "contact Mr. Spencer at Tri-
Sales; tell him that I'm re-scheduling the meeting until later in
the week."
"Yes M..."
Barbara hit the "off" button before her the secretary could
finish answering. Trying to ignore her aching muscles, she leaned
forward to contemplate the pile of work on her desk: what to try
to get done before the afternoon meeting?
Tammy Tuttle had grown up with Carol Fawkner. They had been
best friends. Even when they had chosen completely different
career paths - Carol went to business school while Tammy became a
hairdresser and beautician - they still kept in touch. That was
why Tammy knew all about Carol's problems with Barbara Dahlton.
And that was why, when Carol contacted her with this strange
request, Tammy had agreed to do it. Nothing weird, of course: the
beauty parlour had a reputation. But Tammy's purpose was clear:
she was to follow the instructions given to her by her friend
Carol, and if the "customer" didn't like them... well, that was
why Carol suggested that Tammy get payment in advance.
At premium prices.
With a large tip.
Dahlton - the woman looked like as big a bitch as Carol had
said - complained a bit at first. About the prices... about the
fact that she had no say in what was happening. But Tammy just
mentioned "Baxter's plan", as Carol had told her, and the woman
had fallen silent.
Not that she was going to have any cause to complain, in
Tammy's opinion. To her experience eye, Barbara Dahlton had
"potential": nice, rich hair, but it was a mousy brown colour,
and tied back in a bun; nice face, but looking a bit plain
without makeup. Tammy's job, as given to her by Carol, was to
change all that. She was to give the bitch a complete makeover:
hair, makeup... the works.
Tammy smiled.
She loved a challenge.
Barbara fought back the temptation to pull away the towel
that had covered her face for the last few hours. Ever since the
cutting began, the little bimbo with the scissors had insisted
that her eyes be covered. The towel had only come off when the
girl had insisted upon spending what seemed to Barbara to be an
inordinate amount of time applying makeup. Barbara tried to
explain that she didn't wear that much makeup, but the girl just
smiled and told her to keep still. After a while, Barbara stopped
complaining and just sat quietly, all the time plotting revenge:
on this little bimbo; on Carol; on Brad... on anybody!
After the makeup, the towel had been replaced, and work
began again on her hair. After that, someone grabbed her hand and
began doing something to her fingernails. Barbara lost track of
time, but it must have been at least a couple of hours before she
was allowed to look at herself in the mirror.
Barbara gasped at what she saw. Was that her face staring
back, open-mouthed, in the mirror? She looked so... so beautiful
and so... feminine. The hair was the first thing she noticed. It
was blonde, a bright, almost platinum blonde. And it was no
longer held in a tight, conservative bun. Instead, it flowed down
the side of her face in thick waves, framing a luscious, heavily
made up face. Not too made up - she didn't look like a whore or
anything; but compared to what Barbara usually wore...
Tammy smiled down in satisfaction. Her first impression had
been correct: the woman really did have potential. With the new
hair and makeup, she looked really hot! She would turn heads
anywhere...
She didn't seem too happy, though. More stunned than
anything. Tammy watched, puzzled, as the woman looked herself up
and down in the mirror; ran her hand tentatively through her new
hair and then stared, almost in horror, at the bright red nail
polish that covered her nails. Tammy had wanted to put false
nails on, but Carol had vetoed that idea. 'Too much too soon,'
she had laughed.
Tammy still disagreed.
The woman looked up at her. She seemed about to say
something, but then closed her mouth and again stared back at
herself in the mirror. Realizing that she was not about to
receive any compliments for her work - good thing she had taken
such a large "tip" at the beginning - Tammy started to sweep up
around the chair. It was past closing time, and she...
Oh. One more thing. Tammy reached into her apron and brought
out an envelope. "This is for you," she said shortly, handing the
envelope to her silent customer. Miffed at the lack of
appreciation, Tammy turned and flounced into the back room...
Barbara fought to hold back tears as she read. The letter
was short and to the point: the way Barbara appeared now was to
be her new "look"; she was to wear her hair and makeup that way
in the office from now on. Any derogation would be severely
"punished". Barbara shuddered slightly, imagining what that
punishment might entail.
Still in a daze, she slid out of the seat and stumbled out
of the beauty parlour. She was so upset, she failed to notice
Rodney snapping a couple of pictures of her as she left the shop.
*****
Phyllis hid a smile as Barbara hustled past her, face down,
into the office and slammed shut the door. Carol's prediction had
been bang on: the now-blonde hair was tied back in a bun and the
makeup was still minimal. Still, the secretary couldn't help but
shiver slightly with lust as she considered her new boss's body.
The aerobics were working wonders. Now if only...
Well... time for that later. Shaking her head, Phyllis
reached over and picked up the phone...
Carol couldn't help but smile as she strode down the long,
office hallway. Barbara had acted exactly as she had predicted,
ignoring the warning and trying to minimize the makeover. Well,
Carol wasn't about to let that happen. She was enjoying this far
too much to let her control slip like that.
Nodding to the smirking Phyllis, the blonde woman pushed
open the office door and walked in.
"What are..." Barbara rose to her feet from behind the desk,
angry at the intrusion, but she fell silent when she saw who it
was. A look of fear replaced the anger. "C-Carol..."
Carol just shook her head. "Don't make any excuses," she
ordered. "I don't want to hear it." She pulled a picture out of
her pocket and threw it down on the older woman's desk. It was
one of the shots taken by Rodney the night before. Barbara looked
down at it in grim silence.
"Do you remember your orders?" Carol asked.
Barbara nodded silently.
"What were they?"
Barbara gulped, feeling her face go red with humiliation.
"Uhmm... well, I... I was supposed to... to m-make myself up
like... like last night..."
Carol nodded. "And if not?"
"T-then... then I was to b-be punished..." Barbara stared
down at her desk, unable to meet the younger woman's eyes. She
felt like a little child who had been caught by her parents doing
something naughty.
"Fine," Carol said. "Now you've broken the rules and must be
punished. Do you understand why?"
Barbara looked up, puzzled. "W-why?"
"Why you're going to be punished?" Carol explained.
The older woman shrugged helplessly. "B-because I didn't...
didn't wear makeup..."
"Right," Carol nodded. "But more importantly, because you
didn't follow orders. We had a deal, and you didn't live up to
it. Now you have to pay the price. Right?"
Barbara nodded uncertainly. She hated being treated like
this - like a child - but she thought that Carol might go easier
on her if she just played along.
"OK." Satisfied, Carol walked around behind Barbara's desk
and sat down in the chair. "Come here and bend over," she
ordered.
"What?" Barbara lost a little of her fear and regained some
of her earlier anger. There was no way she was going to...
"You heard me," Carol repeated. "You've been a bad girl and
now you're going to be spanked."
"No," Barbara stated. "That's too much. You can't..."
"Alright," Carol interrupted. "If you want, I'll leave this
office and not bother you again." She paused to stare the older
woman in the eye. "But if I do leave, certain packages will
immediately be sent to certain persons. I think you know what
those are."
Barbara fell silent, realizing the depth of her predicament.
Originally, she had half-expected that she would be able to bluff
and bluster her way out of Carol's little "orders", but that
didn't appear to be the case. She was stuck, and Carol knew it.
Still... to be spanked in her own office...
Carol got up to leave.
Barbara couldn't let her go. She just couldn't. "Wait."
Carol turned and looked at the older woman, waiting for her to
say something.
"P-please," Barbara mumbled, face downward. "Don't leave."
"Why?"
Barbara drew a deep breath. "I... I need to b-be punished,"
she stammered, "P-please."
Carol nodded and walked back to the chair. Once she was
seated, Barbara approached and knelt down beside her. Moving
slowly, she leaned forward and...
"No," Carol told her. "All spanks must be on bare bottoms."
Barbara reddened with renewed humiliation; every time it seemed
that she had reached the absolute depths, things just kept
getting worse. Still, she now knew better than to complain. It
would only make things worse. She just pulled her slacks down to
her ankles and then propped herself up over Carol's knees.
Carol began to run her hand over her boss's smooth, naked
ass, admiring the smooth firmness. The exercises were working out
well. "I think," she mused aloud, "that fifty smacks should be
enough for a first offence. Don't you agree."
Fifty!
Barbara mumbled her agreement from her humiliating position.
Carol smiled. "But," she added, "I want you to count every
stroke. Count them and thank me for them. Do you understand."
By now, Barbara was fighting a losing battle against tears.
Chocking back the humiliation, she just nodded. She had no
choice.
Satisfied, Carol drew back her hand and landed a vicious
smack on one of Barbara's smooth asscheeks.
"Ahhhh...."
Carol waited. After a few second, Barbara spoke up in a
small voice: "One. T-thank you." Carol couldn't help but smile as
she brought her hand back for the second smack: the bitch even
sounded like a little girl being spanked. This was great!
SMACK...
"Two. Thank you."
By the time the fiftieth stroke was completed, Barbara's ass
was shining red with pain and Carol pussy was dripping. No time
to waste: she wanted to go find Brad right now. She shoved the
older woman off her lap and got to her feet. Barbara, her face
wet with tears stared up at the blonde girl; she wanted to get to
her feet - to pull up her pants - but she wasn't sure if she was
supposed to do so. There was no way she was going to risk any
more smacks. She just couldn't take that again.
Carol looked down at her. "I hope you've learned your
lesson."
Barbara bit her lip and nodded. She had.
"I expect you to go home right now and fix yourself up
properly. The next time I catch you at work without proper makeup
and hair, it'll be forty strokes. Do you understand?"
Barbara nodded, eyes wide. There was no way she was going to
let that happen. Ever.
Satisfied, Carol stepped over the prone woman and walked out
of the office. Barbara clambered slowly to her feet and pulled up
her pants, careful not to aggravate the pain. This done, she
reached over and turned on the intercom: "Phyllis," she said,
fighting to keep her voice steady, "I have to go to a... a
meeting this morning. Please cancel my presentation."
Outside, Phyllis smirked up at Carol as they listened to
this order. "Yes Ms. Dahlton," Phyllis answered, careful to turn
off the intercom before bursting out in laughter.
*****
WEEK THREE:
Hair and makeup perfectly in place, Barbara slipped into her
office and closed the door. Another monday morning in this
hellish few months that bitch Carol had planned for her. The
previous week had been bad. After the humiliating (and painful)
spanking, Barbara had taken extra care with her makeup and hair,
making certain that they were always in perfect order, even
getting up half an hour earlier to ensure that her appearance was
adequate. She would not give her tormentor another chance to
abuse her like last week.
The change in appearance had not gone unnoticed at work. Her
new look had turned men's head with regularity, and a number of
them had commented favourably. The women, on the other hand, had
either been resentful or just plain amused. Of the two reactions,
Barbara preferred the former. Most disturbing, however, had been
the reactions of some of the men she was actually working with.
Where they would have routinely deferred to her opinions before
the makeover, they now seemed to treat her with something
bordering on amusement. On thursday, she had blown up at a
meeting, yelling at some co-workers who did not seem to be taking
her presentation seriously. The men had just nodded, smirking,
and then gone on with what they were doing.
And the clients: they were worse. They now seemed more
willing to deal with her male subordinates than herself. On more
than one occasion, she had learned that the customer had gone
directly to another employee, usually someone subordinate to her,
in order to confirm what she had told him. This infuriated her,
but she didn't know what to do about it; she couldn't treat the
clients the same way she treated her co-workers. Men just didn't
take her seriously when she looked like she did now.
At one meeting, a customer had even asked her to go get
coffee for him! Barbara had almost blown up, but in the end she
had swallowed her anger and had left the office to order a
secretary to get coffee. He was an important customer.
But still...
Like the first two orders, the third consisted of an
appointment, this time at a store in a nearby mall. Once again,
she was to go to the specified location that afternoon. She had
anticipated the timing and had kept the afternoon clear. The only
indication regarding the appointment was the rather ominous
warning to "bring a credit card".
It turned out to be a clothing store.
Or, actually, a number of clothing stores and one shoe
store. (After she'd finished up at the first, the clerk handed
her a note directing her to another shop in the mall.) In each
store, the procedure was the same. Someone - apparently Carol -
had come in on the weekend and picked out a number of outfits
which had then been packaged and prepared for sale. All Barbara
had to do was show up, pick up the packages, and pay for them. By
the time she was finished, Barbara had filled up three credits
cards to their absolute limit and had bought more clothing and
shoes than she would normally buy in a year.
The saleswoman in the final shop handed her an envelope. It
contained detailed instructions from Carol regarding which
outfits to wear, how to wear them, and when to wear them. By the
time she had finished the shopping, it was too late to go back to
work, so Barbara just took her purchases home to begin sorting
them out. From the length of the instructions, there was a lot of
sorting out to get done...
*****
WEEK FOUR:
The clothing had turned out not to be as bad as Barbara had
expected. In fact, it seemed to be very close to what Barbara
would wear normally anyway. Certainly, she was being forced to
wear skirts now rather than her usual slacks, but plenty of women
wore skirts at the office. And the skirts were not particularly
outrageous: except for friday, they all reached down well below
her knees. The one on friday was a little shorter, just above the
knees, but still nothing out of the ordinary. And if the men
still stared... well, they were doing that anyway with the new
hairstyle and makeup, and she was more or less getting used to
it.
The shoes she was forced to wear were a little more
difficult. They only had three inch heels - well within the
limits of propriety, but more than Barbara was used to wearing.
Still, she began to get used to them, and by friday was walking
without difficulty.
Barbara punched the display button on her computer. She
almost had to laugh at the new "order": chewing gum. She was to
chew gum at work. It seemed kind of strange, but not particularly
difficult or humiliating.
Almost smiling, Barbara rose from her chair, straightened
her skirt - it was the one she had worn on friday; the shorter
one - and walked out of her office towards the confectionary to
buy some gum. There was no way she was going to get caught out
again.
She'd show that little bitch!
Even Brad could hardly believe the change. In less than four
weeks, Carol had managed to alter Barbara's appearance
completely, changing her from an uptight, ultra-conservative
businessperson into an extremely attractive woman. And the care
with which it had been done... the hair and makeup had been a bit
of a shock around the office, but the change in clothing had come
about very subtly. The change was real, though: over the last
couple of weeks, the long, conservative skirts had become
gradually shorter and shorter. Now they barely reached down to
within a couple of inches of her knees. The same with the high
heels: first only a couple of inches; then three; and now four...
Brad had to admit that Barbara had a great pair of legs. It was a
pleasure to see them...
And the gum! It was the perfect touch, simultaneously making
Barbara just a little less articulate - a little less quick to
speak out and a little less clear when she did so - and giving
her a somewhat coarse appearance.
Just a hint of sluttiness.
Exactly as Carol had said it would.
Carol. Barbara hadn't been the only person to undergo a
change in the last little while. Brad was actually a little in
awe - and perhaps somewhat frightened - of the young blonde
woman. She had gone from a quiet, shy girl into... well, Brad
didn't know how to describe her. Ever since their time together
in the alcove beside Baxter's office, Carol had been very
forceful.
Nowadays, he could barely keep up with her, in bed or out of
it. And he had watched, at first in glee but later in some alarm,
as his little plot against Barbara had blown up into a full-blown
vendetta. Carol wanted revenge for the way Barbara had treated
her and she was going to get it. It had all gone a little too far
for Brad's taste, but still...
There was no denying that it was a hell of a lot of fun!
Jerry Chalmers watched longingly as Barbara walked by in her
short, navy blue skirt and white blouse. What a woman! He'd only
been working there for about a week now, but he had very quickly
picked out Barbara Dahlton as one of the most beautiful women he
had ever seen. There was, however, no chance of her ever noticing
him, much less going out with him. He was only a stockboy,
fifteen years her junior and with little education or training.
They were at different ends of the corporate ladder, and it just
wasn't possible...
"Not bad, huh?" Startled, Jerry turned to see Brad Tymmens
grinning at him. The young executive had made a point of getting
to know the new stockboy.
"Uhh... well." Jerry turned red.
Was he that obvious?
"Hey," Brad patted him on the shoulder, "Don't worry about
out. She's pretty hot."
Jerry shrugged his shoulders in agreement, not trusting
himself to speak.
"Listen," Brad continued, "I don't know if you've heard, but
she's pretty easy."
"Huh?"
"You know... likes to... well, you know."
"I... I hadn't heard that."
"Sure." Brad lowered his voice and looked about. "Listen,
I've actually got a video of her and another guy here in the
office. It's pretty good; show's you the kind of thing she likes.
Interested?"
Stupid question.
Jerry nodded.
"C'mon," Brad started walking down the hall. "I've got it in
my office. You can borrow it if you like."
Jerry followed, not believing his good luck.
*****
WEEK FIVE:
Barbara's jaws kept moving, automatically working away at
the ever present stick of gum, as the latest set of orders
scrolled slowly down the computer screen. There was the usual set
of instructions for clothing - she had protested to Carol about
that, claiming that this constituted more than one order. Carol,
however, had just smirked and told her that she was free to do
whatever she wanted. Barbara knew well the extent of this
freedom; her ass was no longer bruised and sore, but the memory
of the pain and humiliation remained. And so she continued to
dress as ordered, occasionally picking up new items as required.
In fact, she didn't even mind the shorter skirts now that she had
become used to them. The four inch heels were still a bit of a
problem, but they were not too bad.
The new order though... well, it was pretty much what she
had been afraid of ever since the blackmail started. It was
simple enough: she was to go to the stockroom that friday
afternoon at just after 5:00 and seduce the stockboy.
Seduce the stockboy.
God... she didn't even know who was on duty that afternoon.
If it was...
The phone rang.
"Ms. Dahlton," came an angry voice from other end of the
line, "you're fifteen minutes late for the sales meeting; we need
your projections." It was Riker, the head of sales!
"But..." Barbara fought for control. She was certain that
the meeting had been scheduled for the afternoon. "Isn't the
meeting..."
"The meeting started fifteen minutes ago," Simpson repeated.
"Now get your cute little ass up here. Now!"
The line went dead. Frantically, not even noticing the crack
about her 'cute little ass', Barbara called up her computer
diary. Sure enough, it showed a meeting scheduled for 9:30 that
morning. But she had just checked it on friday! Flustered, she
got up out of her chair and moved to the door, stumbling slightly
on the four inch heels. She would have to wing the projections,
as they just weren't ready and there was...
Makeup!
Upset, Barbara paused at the door and then headed back to
her desk. Moving as quickly as she could, she took out the small
mirror she now kept in the top desk drawer and checked her hair
and makeup; there was no way she was going to let Carol catch her
with her appearance anything less than perfect.
After a few minor adjustment, she replaced the mirror and
then left her office.
Phyllis smirked as her boss padded down the hallway, eyes
fastened on her boss's swaying ass. It had been a simple matter
to change the computer diary.
Carol's idea.
Of course.
That girl was really something. Cute, too. Very nearly as
attractive as Barbara was turning out to be...
*****
Jerry worked slowly, shelf by shelf, making certain that
each area was fully stocked. He was still fairly new at the job,
so he had to take care over where he put things; wouldn't do to
get fired. Jobs were too hard to come by. Besides...
"H-hi."
Jerry turned, startled. He hadn't heard anyone come in, and
the office was usually empty by this time friday afternoon. Oh
god! It was...
"M-ms. Dahlton," he stammered. "I didn't hear you..."
"Please," Barbara told him, her voice low. "Call me
Barbara."
"Uhmmm... alright," Jerry agreed quietly, "Barbara."
Jerry's eyes narrowed as he watched the beautiful blonde
walk slowly towards him. She looked great in her short skirt,
high heels and light blouse; even better than in the video...
The video!
How could he have forgotten it? He had certainly watched it
often enough. He'd even made his own copy before giving it back
to Brad. In his mind's eye, Jerry was no longer watching the
Barbara Dahlton who was standing in the stockroom; he saw the hot
bitch who had bent over Baxter's desk, whimpering and groaning
like some common street-slut. He heard the small cries of lust
and the flush of pleasure that came over her when Baxter had
called her a "whore" and a "bitch".
"How are you d-doing?" Her voice snapped him back into the
reality of the stockroom. This Barbara Dahlton looked a lot
different than the one in the video - blonde hair, different
clothing - but in many ways... in many ways she seemed the same.
The same woman who had gone down on Baxter so enthusiastically.
The same woman...
Jerry was startled from his chain of thought as she put a
hand on his shoulder. Her bright red nails stood out on his grey
shirt. "It must get lonely in here," she said, her voice low,
"especially after everyone else is gone home." He felt his
insides turn to jelly. She was trying to seduce him.
She really was.
Trying to seduce him.
He swallowed. What should he do? He knew next to nothing
about women. But...
How would Baxter have acted?
OK. Give it a try. All or nothing.
"Alright bitch," he growled, voice almost breaking with
tension. "I know what you want."
Barbara's eyes widened with shock. He sounded just like...
just like that bastard Baxter! Were all men like...
Her train of thought was cut off as the young stockboy
reached around behind her neck, pulled her face forward and
kissed her savagely. Frightened, she resisted for a moment, but
quickly gave in and melted forward into his arms: this was what
she had come here to do.
Closing her eyes, she began to kiss back...
Despite everything he had seen in the video, Jerry had still
expected disaster when he grabbed at her. That hadn't happened
though; instead, she had fallen forward and returned his kiss.
With that single returned kiss, Jerry knew - he knew - that he
could do no wrong. She wanted it, and wanted it hard.
The whore.
Roughly, he pushed her away, breaking the kiss. He stood
panting for a brief moment before reaching forward, grabbing the
top of her blouse, and ripping it away.
"H-hey..." she cried, startled, trying to back up.
Jerry just laughed. He took hold of the front of her bra and
snapped it off with a pull of his wrist. Off balance on the
heels, Barbara stumbled forward into his arms. The stockboy
immediately took a hold of one of her tits and squeezed it.
Hard.
Barbara let out a wordless cry of pain, but didn't try to
pull away as she was too busy trying to regain her balance.
"You little bitch," Jerry growled. "You wanna get fucked?"
Barbara, once again steady on her feet, could do nothing
other than nod. That was what she was here for: to get fucked.
And the sooner she got it over with...
Satisfied with her answer, Jerry through his hands around
her waist, lifted her and sat her down on a low shelf. He
continued to maul her breasts with one hand while with the other
he spread her legs and reached up under her skirt.
No panties.
Jerry laughed: "Jeez. You really are a little slut."
He pushed her legs apart and then reached down to undo his
zipper...
Barbara, perched precariously on the shelf, kept her legs
spread and hunched her lower body to facilitate access to her
pussy. She didn't know why... couldn't explain it, but somehow
she was actually beginning to become aroused. If she had had the
time to consider it, she would doubtless have felt humiliation at
her unwilling arousal, but she didn't have that time. Her mind
was racing, half with panic and half with arousal, and all she
knew was...
Jerry pushed her legs even further apart and jammed his cock
into her pussy with a single, brutal thrust. Barbara groaned with
pleasure at the feel of his cock sliding into her pussy. Oh
god... it felt...
"Slut. Whore. Bitch..." Jerry grunted epithets as he fucked
her, punctuating each thrust with an insult.
It drove Barbara wild! Taking advantage of the flexibility
she had been learning in her aerobics classes, she wrapped her
long, sleek legs around behind Jerry's ass and began fucking back
at him, all the time moaning and whimpering in abandon, feeling
for real what she had been playing at with Baxter. She didn't
understand why she felt this way, but she couldn't help it.
Unfortunately, Jerry stiffened and came within a couple of
minutes. His sanity seemed to return with his orgasm, and he
quickly pulled out, wide eyed at the sight of Ms. Dahlton, legs
spread and pussy clearly visible, humping blindly at the place
where his cock had been.
"Uhmmm... uh..." There was nothing he could say. He just did
up his zipper and rushed from the room.
Behind him, Barbara slowly came down from her near orgasm.
She sat there, panting, for about thirty seconds and then slid
off the shelf to her feet. It wouldn't do to get caught in that
position. As she walked across the stockroom, she caught sight of
herself in a small mirror: her makeup was smudged and hair all of
over the place! Frightened that she might run into Carol, she
slipped out the stockroom and practically ran, as best she could
on the heels, all the way to her office. Once inside, she took
out the mirror and various implements and spent the next ten
minutes repairing her appearance.
And wiping off the thin trail of sperm on her inner thigh.
Then, once again immaculate, she left the office and went
home for the weekend...
END PART THREE
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As usual, all comments are appreciated.
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