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Career Opportunities 4/4
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 4/4
By Parker
WARNING: This story contains a certain amount of non-
consensual sexual activity, as well as instances of
domination, humiliation and the barest hint of lesbian
activity. If you find any of this offensive, please read no
further (lest you be offended).
Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute
(unaltered, of course), but be discrete.
=================================================================
Carol stretched, lazy and catlike, her small, white foot
extending from beneath the thick quilt. "So," she asked, yawning
contentedly in the aftermath of the lovemaking, "Jerry was pretty
excited?"
Brad snorted. "Excited isn't the word," he answered. "You
couldn't get him to shut up about it. Most of the office has
probably heard about it by now." He got up off the bed and
padded, naked, towards the bathroom.
Carol watched him go, hungrily eyeing his ass. Less than ten
minutes after a long fuck session, and she was ready to go again!
Must be all this talk about Barbara, Carol reasoned. A small,
delicious shiver ran through her body at the thought of what
she... what they were doing to that bitch.
Carol's thoughts were interrupted as Brad came out of the
bathroom. She looked hopefully towards his crotch as he came back
into the room, but was disappointed. He had put on a robe.
Damn.
Ah well. Back to Barbara...
"So you think everyone knows about it?" she asked.
"Probably," Brad told her, sitting down on the edge of the
bed. "Word gets 'round."
"Good. The more people the better."
Brad shrugged. "Well, one thing's for sure. She won't be
going into the stockroom again anytime soon."
Carol just smiled. "We'll see about that." Her pussy was
getting wet just thinking about what had happened to Barbara in
the stockroom. And what was still to come.
The couple fell silent for a moment. Brad looked at the
floor. "Actually," he said, "I've been meaning to ask you
something."
Carol looked over at him, waiting. "I mean," he explained,
"I know you hate Barbara and everything... and you've got reason.
But... but, well, how far are you going to go with this thing? I
feel..."
"How far?" Suddenly angry, Carol sat up in the bed. Brad
started to look away, but his attention was captured by her
breasts, small but firm. Perfect. "In case you've forgotten, I'm
going to lose my job in a little over a month. Thanks to that
bitch! I don't think that I will have gone too far until..."
"No, I don't mean..."
Carol stopped in mid-rant, suddenly deflated. "Sorry," she
said quietly. "I just get so angry sometimes."
Brad leaned over and gathered her into his arms. "That's
OK," me murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. "I do
understand. It's just that I heard about Baxter yesterday,
and..."
"Baxter?" Carol pulled away and looked him in the face.
"What happened with Baxter?"
"Didn't you hear? He had a heart attack. He's dead."
Carol fell silent, stunned at the news. Brad watched her as
she turned away; as she looked down; as her shoulders began to
shake silently...
"Carol..."
Carol turned to him.
She was laughing.
"Carol?"
"Don't you see," she asked, laughter dying down. "It's
perfect. I needed just one more thing to finish her off... and
that's it. It's perfect."
The young blonde woman started laughing again.
Brad just looked at her, uneasy.
What was she talking about?
*****
WEEK SIX:
Another trip to the beauty salon.
Tammy was a little happier with the result this time. Still
no artificial nails, but by this time her "customer's" natural
nails had grown out a fair bit - Barbara had been forbidden to
cut them - so the nail polish looked a little more appropriate.
Tammy also liked the colour a bit better: a nice hot pink, which
perfectly matched the new colour of lipstick. And, as per
instructions from Carol, Tammy had laid things on a little
heavier this time: a little more makeup; a more metallic blonde
hair colour; a slightly wilder hair style.
Barbara hadn't said anything through the entire session. She
just sat there, staring straight ahead while Tammy worked. A
little spooky, Tammy thought, but what the hey?
The money was good.
Barbara pursed her lips, examining her makeup in the mirror.
Everything looked in place. The new lipstick was a little tarty
for her taste, but it wasn't like she had a choice.
Only another five or so weeks...
She turned just as the door opened. It was Carol of course;
the bitch never announced herself. And Phyllis was no use
whatsoever; once the eleven weeks were up...
"Well," Carol smiled approvingly, "I must say, you look
quite something. Quite the little slut."
"What do..."
Carol just laughed. "Don't start bitching at me. You got off
easy this week. A simple trip to the beauty parlour is hardly a
problem for a girl like you."
Barbara quit trying to protest. She couldn't figure out what
the hell the blonde woman was going on about. Best just to shut
up and listen. Besides, she *had* gotten off easy this week.
"Anyway," Carol continued, "I need you to pick up some stuff
for me from the supply room." She put a piece of paper on
Barbara's desk. It was a list of numerous office supply items.
"Ask a secretary," Barbara snapped. "Get Phyllis to do it.
It's not like..."
Carol silenced her with a stare. "I'm asking you."
Once again, Barbara fell silent. "Yes Carol," she acquiesced
quietly. Best to go along with it.
Only five more weeks...
Barbara was extremely conscious of the shortness of her
skirt as she bent down to pull some supplies from a shelf. It
hadn't been obvious, but the skirts had been getting steadily
shorter. The one she was wearing today must have been a good
eight inches from her knees, not so bad when she was sitting
behind a desk, but definitely an embarrassing disadvantage when
bending over. Luckily, she was alone in the stock room. Sighing,
she bent over and reached across the shelf. It would have been
better to have gone around to the other side, but if she could
just reach...
Barbara was startled to feel a hand on her ass.
"Hey!" Shocked and alarmed, she tried to back up, but there
was someone standing directly behind her, blocking her path and
trapping her as she stood, bent at the waist with her upper body
stuck between two shelves. "What are you... what's going on..."
No answer.
Or at least no verbal answer.
A hand reached around under her chest and roughly squeezed
her breast. "Noooo...." Barbara was now beginning to panic: WHO
WAS DOING THIS TO HER??? Frantically, she tried to twist her
upper body, attempting to turn her face and get a look at the
person who was abusing her. Just as she did so, however, a piece
of heavy cloth was dropped over her head: someone's jacket? She
tried to grab ahold of it to pull it away, but her wrists were
taken and fastened to the railings at either end of the shelf.
She was now blind and helpless, bent in two with her ass hanging
over one end of the shelf and her face over the other.
Her panicked cries were muffled by the jacket as she felt
her short skirt being rolled up her legs until her ass was
completely exposed. A pair of hand grabbed her panties - the
pink, frilly ones, as ordered by Carol - and yanked them free.
Angrily, she tried to kick back at her tormentors, but her ankles
were quickly tied about three feet apart to the lower rails of
the shelf.
"You bastards," she yelled from beneath the jacket. "I'll...
umph..." Her cries were cut off as a hand reached under the
jacket and rudely stuffed a small bundle of cloth into her open
mouth. Her sense of smell told her what it was: her panties.
"Hmmmm..." She tried to push the foul tasting cloth out of her
mouth, but a hand was held over her mouth, holding them in.
Barbara was beginning to panic in earnest now. She felt a
finger between her legs... squeezing... pressing... She tried to
close her legs, but the bindings at her ankles kept them spread.
She was totally helpless.
Exposed.
"Hah," came a male voice, "The slut's already wet. Little
whore really wants it."
Barbara felt her face burning beneath the jacket. It was
true; for some reason, her pussy was moist. No matter how hard
she tried, she couldn't keep her body from betraying her. And the
language they were using... calling her a "bitch" and a
"whore"... With every new epithet, she felt a shiver of pleasure
run through her.
Just like last week with Jerry.
Jerry! She *did* recognize the voice. It was...
Her thoughts were interrupted as a thick cock was inserted
into her exposed pussy and buried inside with one brutal shove.
She squealed and rocked forward, trying to jerk away from the
cock, but it was no use; she was trapped by the shelves. All she
could do was stand there, bent over at the waist, as she was
raped from behind. The man pistoned his hips back and forth,
riding his cock in and out of her now sopping pussy. In a way,
she felt almost grateful for her arousal; the lubrication spared
her a lot of pain.
Pain.
A hand slapped the side of her ass, causing her to buck and
screech in shock. "C'mon bitch," the voice said. "Fuck me back. I
know you like it." The hand came down again, sending a shiver of
pain and... and pleasure through her body. Slowly, and then with
greater energy, she began to fuck back against the cock, sliding
her hips back and forth as she felt her own arousal building.
"Uhh... Uhhh... Uhh..." She began to grunt in time with the
thrusts.
After a few moments, the man behind her stiffened and came,
shooting his load of sperm straight into her pussy. Barbara
moaned with frustration as he pulled out; she was so close! She
heard laughter in the room - how many men were there? - as she
futilely bucked her sweaty ass back against the air. She must
have looked ridiculous, but she didn't care. "Please..." she
moaned through the soggy panties. "Please..."
Her muffled wish was quickly granted as another man came up
behind her and jammed his cock up her pussy. She squealed, this
time with pleasure, and began vigorously fucking back at him. As
she did so, she felt the hand at her mouth pull away, taking the
sopping panties with them. Barbara opened her mouth to groan, but
it was immediately filled with cock. She tried to push it away,
but her wrists were firmly fastened to the shelves. All she could
do was suck at the cock and try not to gag.
The sudden intrusion of the cock in her mouth momentarily
threw off the rhythm of her arousal, but she soon picked it up
again. Moaning with lust, she bucked back against the cock buried
in her pussy and sucked hungrily at the cock in her mouth. Her
first orgasm came about thirty seconds later, a mind numbing
burst of pleasure which left her gasping for more.
The two men came at the same time, simultaneously pumping
sperm into her mouth and pussy. She swallowed as fast as she
could, but was unable to prevent the hot jism from bubbling over
her lips and dribbling down her chin.
Both cocks pulled away and were quickly replaced.
By the end of the session in the storeroom, she must have
fucked at least a dozen guys (or, maybe, fewer than a dozen and
some of them twice; it was impossible to tell). After the first
few, she had sunk into some kind of sexual daze where she had
remained for most of the session, grunting, bucking and panting
like some kind of wind-up sex doll. The only exception had been
when they had begun fucking her in the ass rather then in the
pussy. The pain had momentarily woken her from her daze, but
after the first couple of ass fucks, she no longer felt it.
Nothing but orgasm... after orgasm... after...
When she finally regained her senses, she was lying on the
floor of the storeroom, her ankles still tied to the lower
railing of the shelves. Moving stiffly, she had untied herself
and staggered to her feet. Fortunately, her clothing was still
pretty much intact, albeit cum-stained, and she was able to
repair her general appearance. After wiping away as much of the
sperm as possible with the inside of her skirt, she left the
storeroom and walked as quickly as possible to her office.
She would have to repair her makeup as soon as possible.
Couldn't let Carol see her like this...
Phyllis looked up, quickly hitting the ENTER key on her
computer, removing her boss's electronic diary from the screen.
Barbara, hair and makeup repaired, but still in something of a
daze, walked past and into her office, not even acknowledging the
secretary's existence. Behind her, Phyllis stared at the closed
door with a curious mix of longing and anger. "Steady girl," she
muttered under her breath. "You'll get your chance."
A quick glance through the window revealed that Barbara was
not using the diary - she had not even turned on her computer.
Phyllis smirked and called it up on her screen. There was an
important meeting tomorrow.
A few more changes and...
*****
"...and I just don't have time for this," he stated, almost
shouting in anger. "You've been cancelling these meetings for the
last couple of weeks, and I finally get a chance to see you and
you don't bloody show up!" Harold Simpson slammed his beefy fist
down on the boardroom table, frustrated and angry. "And now you
tell me that the report I specifically came here to get won't be
ready till next week."
Barbara fought to hold back the tears. "I'm so sorry Mr.
Simpson," she apologised frantically. "I thought that the meeting
wasn't until..."
"Bullshit!" The enraged client heaved his considerable bulk
up out of his chair and began pacing. "I called your secretary
yesterday. She confirmed the meeting."
"But..."
"I'm sick of excuses."
Barbara fell silent.
Simpson looked over at her and sighed. She used to be one of
the best business contacts he had ever worked with: tough, smart,
hard working. But now...
He had been shocked at her new appearance when she had
stumbled into the meeting almost forty-five minutes late. The
platinum hair; the pink lipstick; the short skirt and high
heels... she looked more like some bimbo secretary than the tough
businesswomen he remembered. At first he had assumed that the
changes were just cosmetic - that she had just gotten a new
boyfriend or something like that - and was still as efficient as
ever. But that assumption had proved wrong. And he just couldn't
risk leaving his business to someone like that.
"Barbara," he said, "I'm sorry, but this meeting is over.
I'll be calling Riker this afternoon and arrange to get my files
transferred back to my office."
Barbara just stood there, stunned. Simpson was firing the
firm! Oh god... he was one of their biggest clients. Riker would
fire her for sure!
"Please... Mr... Harold," she said, walking slowly forward.
"Give me another chance. It won't happen again."
Simpson just shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he answered.
"It's just too..."
He broke off speaking just as she came up to him. In a flash
of insight, she understood why: it was her. He was attracted to
her; wanted her.
Wanted to fuck her.
Her first reaction was one of nausea. Quite apart from her
firm policy not to get involved with clients - and Simpson wasn't
the first to be interested - Harold Simpson was far from an
attractive man. He was grossly fat, with a red, jowly face and
receding hairline. But still... he was one of the Company's
oldest and richest clients; a client the Company could not afford
to lose. That loss would spell the end of her career, and she had
gone through so much - eight weeks of hell, thanks to that bitch
Carol - to keep her job and get the promotion.
And how bad could it be? She'd already fucked half the guys
at the office?
Forcing a smile onto her beautiful face, Barbara moved right
up to the angry client. He tried to say something, stuttering
impotently, but she shushed him with one, brightly painted
fingernail on his lips. "It's alright," she purred. "You don't
have to say anything. I know what you need."
She leaned into him and brought her lips up to his mouth.
His lips were thick and soft... and wet. She almost gagged at the
feel of him, but at the same time felt a thrill of lust run
through her body. She didn't understand it, but counted it a
blessing as he opened his mouth and sucked hungrily at her
tongue. How else could she possibly go through with this?
After a long, sensuous kiss, she slowly sunk to her knees in
front of him, her fingers pulling down his zipper and carefully
coaxing his slug-like cock free from his trousers. He gasped and
then leaned back against the boardroom table as Barbara's hot
mouth engulfed his cock and began sucking.
Perhaps, he thought, he should reconsider his decision to
fire her. She may not be much use for business any more, but the
beautiful bitch certainly had her uses...
*****
WEEK NINE:
This couldn't be happening.
It just couldn't.
She had come into the office that monday morning, wobbling a
bit on her new stiletto heels, but still feeling pretty good. The
end was in sight: just a couple more weeks. And not only did she
still have her job, but Riker had indicated to her that he
expected the promotion to become permanent in the near future.
Apparently, Simpson been very... enthusiastic about working with
her. She shuddered a bit, not the least because of the memory of
her own reactions the fat bastard had...
Well, best not to think about it.
The letter had been on her desk when she had arrived,
sitting beside a steaming cup of coffee. Phyllis must have
brought it in, Barbara had mused, taking a long sip as she
reached for the letter. She had opened it immediately and scanned
its contents, wanting to delay the inevitable moment when she
would turn on her computer and read that week's orders.
To say that the news was a shock would be an understatement.
She almost swallowed her gum as she collapsed back into her
office chair. Baxter was dead! That was enough, but there was
more. Much more...
Panicking, she reached over and punched the desk intercom.
"Phyllis," she ordered, "get Fawkner and Tymmens. Tell them to
get to my office right away."
Heart racing, she leaned back in her chair to think. Those
assholes had gotten her into this mess, and they could bloody
well get her out of it. If not, she'd make certain to take them
down with her...
Brad slumped back against the wall, biting his lip with
worry, while Carol paced angrily back and forth in the office.
Only Barbara, sitting calmly at her desk, seemed unmoved. This
was, however, an illusion; inside, she was bleakly reviewing the
destruction of her hopes and plans. There was no doubt about it:
she was going to jail. The money was gone. Those four words...
"Suing?" Carol had been flabbergasted, staring at the
letter.
"That's right," Barbara agreed. "His estate is suing for the
$120,000 we embezzled from the Company."
Brad, typically Barbara thought, had been confused. "Well
what do you mean? Did you owe Baxter the money or something?"
Carol had answered: "Not exactly. The way they set up the
embezzlement scheme, the money went into Barbara's account. In
order to reduce taxes, he was going to accept it as a capital
gain through a shell company." She looked over at Barbara.
"That's right, isn't it?" Barbara nodded tiredly. "So," Carol
continued, "when Baxter's estate went into probate, the money
turned up as a debt to his account. A debt from Barbara to his
company."
Brad still looked confused, but the two women ignored him.
Barbara cut right to the heart of the matter: "I need that money
back," she said. "We set it up so that the debt is watertight. I
have to pay; if not, they'll sue, and this whole thing will come
unravelled." She looked Carol straight in the eye. "And if things
come to that," she said menacingly, "I'll make sure everyone
knows what happened here." Carol swallowed and turned red.
Barbara, enjoying the feeling of being in control once again,
repeated her request. "Give me back the money."
Carol was silent.
It was Brad spoke up: "We can't," he said quietly. "The
money is gone."
The money was gone.
Barbara's facade of calm crumbled, at first slowly and then
more quickly until she was literally in tears. Over the last few
minutes, she had begun to feel a sense of confusion come over
her. It must be the pressure, she told herself, making it hard to
think. Still, she couldn't help herself from feeling overwhelmed
by it all: after everything she had gone through in the last few
months... and now to lose it all. It just wasn't fair. It just
wasn't...
"...Barbara?"
Barbara stopped sniffling and looked over at Carol. The
women had been saying something to her, but she had been too
wrapped up in self-pity to listen. "W-what?"
"There's a way out of this," Carol told her, suddenly
decisive. "Baxter's estate hasn't actually sued yet. If you
declare bankruptcy before they sue, everything will go to the
trustee in bankruptcy, and they won't be able to get at it. No
one'll know where the money went."
In her confused state, Barbara turned this idea over in her
head. Bankruptcy... but didn't that mean...
"You'll have to decide quickly," Carol stated, interrupting
Barbara's thoughts. "This letter says that they're going to sue
right away. You have to declare before that happens."
Barbara felt increasingly confused, but one thought stuck
out in her mind: if she didn't do it and the estate sued her, her
career would be over and she would be going to jail. She was
certain of it. She wasn't sure about Carol's idea, but... what
other choice was there? Barbara shook her head, trying to clear
away the fog of confusion, but only succeeded in disorienting
herself. What...
"Well?" Carol asked. "What do you want to do? I can have a
lawyer here within half and hour if you want."
Barbara bit her lip and nodded.
She would declare bankruptcy.
It was the only way out.
Numb, she picked up her coffee cup and finished the dregs
while the young blonde woman picked up the phone and called the
lawyer...
The lawyer turned out to be a woman named Terry McDonnell.
Coincidentally, Barbara actually knew her: the lawyer had
worked on a file for the Company a number of years ago. The deal
had come apart and Barbara had registered a complaint to the Bar
Society. McDonnell had been disciplined, and the Company no
longer sent work to that firm. Fortunately, Ms. McDonnell didn't
seem to recognize Barbara, or remember who she was. For the first
time, Barbara was pleased about the change in her appearance.
The lawyer entered the office and brusquely laid out a bunch
of forms on Barbara's desk while Carol and Brad watched in
silence. "Now Ms. Dahlton," she said, "you understand the
bankruptcy process?" Barbara, still confused, shook her head.
"Basically, you sign over all your assets to a trustee, whose job
it is to distribute those assets among your creditors. The
bankruptcy period lasts one year, during which all of your wages
and other income will go to the trustee. You will, of course, be
allowed to keep a certain percentage of your income to live on,
but everything else will be distributed. At the end of the year,
your creditors will accept whatever payment they get from the
trustee, and you are discharged." The woman paused for a breath
before asking: "Do you have any questions?"
Once again, Barbara shook her head. She didn't really
understand, but didn't want to appear stupid. Besides, McDonnell
seemed to know what she was doing.
"Fine." McDonnell nodded and gathered up a stack of forms.
"I have your assets all listed here, so I just need you to sign a
few papers."
In her confused state, Barbara didn't think to ask how the
lawyer had already compiled a list of assets. She just took the
first form and tried to read it. It was, however, filled with
dense legalese, and, after a few moments, she gave up and just
signed it. That form was followed by a second, equally
impenetrable, document; a third... On it went. After the first
few, she gave up reading and just signed them.
Finally, it was over. McDonnell gathered up the signed
documents. "Thank you," she said. "That will do it. I'll get
these executed right away." She turned and left the office,
followed closely by Carol and Brad.
Barbara eased back in her chair and heaved a sigh of relief.
Thank god that was taken care of...
"...and you need to file these as soon as possible,"
McDonnell said, handing Carol most of the forms, "Ms Trustee."
Carol took the forms; she was now the trustee, the legal owner,
of almost all of Barbara's assets - and income - for the coming
year. Plenty of time to arrange for the suitable disposal of
those assets.
"But this one..." The lawyer held up a document, a smile
appearing on her face for the first time since she had arrived.
"This one I'll do myself. The name change has to be published
before it takes effect."
Carol smirked. "Fine Terry," she said, "but do it soon."
Terry McDonnell, who very clearly remembered the incident
with Barbara Dahlton, smiled a nasty smile: "I'm on my way now.
It'll be in the classified section of the final edition. By
tomorrow, her name will officially be Barbie Dahl."
*****
"...and, well, you've shown such a marked improvement these
last three months, we'd like you to stay on."
Carol smiled widely. Her one year probation period was
finally up and it looked like she was going to keep her job! More
than that...
"As you may have heard," Riker continued, shifting
uncomfortably in his seat, "There have been some... difficulties
with Ms Dahlton's work lately. We'd thought that things were back
to normal - Simpson spoke very highly of her; damn near insisted
on working exclusively with her - but now this bankruptcy
thing..." The balding executive scratched his head. "Well... we'd
like you to take her job, on a temporary basis of course. See how
you fit in."
Carol could barely contain herself. Not only was she being
kept on, but she was being offered a great promotion: Barbara's
job, no less! This was too good to be true. Wait until she told
Brad!
Still... there was one thing.
"Well Ms Fawkner?" Riker was a little miffed; he'd been
expecting something more of a reaction. It wasn't every day a
junior employee got such good news.
Carol shook her head. "I'm sorry Mr Riker," she apologized.
"Of course I'll be delighted to take the job. The company's been
very good to me so far, and I like it here. But..."
"But?"
"Well," Carol lowered her face. "It's about... Barbara. I
know she hasn't been 'on' lately, but... I think it's because of
Baxter." Carol looked up, gauging Riker's reaction. "I think she
was hit hard when he died. They had been working together for a
long time."
Riker frowned at the mention of Baxter's name, but his face
softened when Carol explained Barbara's reactions. "It's nice of
you to defend her," he answered. "To tell the truth... well,
maybe I shouldn't be telling you this, but Barbara was never
particularly complimentary about your work."
"I know," Carol looked upset. "But it just doesn't seem fair
to fire her just like that."
Riker shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I don't know what else
to do about it," he told her. "We can't have her as an executive.
Quite aside from the quality of work, the bankruptcy will reflect
on the entire company. And the name change... did you know?"
Carol nodded, fighting back a smirk. "Changed her name to 'Barbie
Dahl', for christ's sake." He shook his head in disbelief.
"Barbie Dahl. She's lost it completely."
"I know," Carol agreed. "But maybe she can stay on in
another capacity."
"What do you have in mind?"
Carol smiled and began to explain exactly what she had in
mind...
"Don't tell me..."
"Listen, you idiot," Carol cut the older woman off. "You're
going to be fired if you don't listen to me. Riker wants to let
you go right now, but I convinced him to give you another chance.
He wants to talk with you. Now."
Barbara slumped back against her desk, instinctively patting
down her short skirt - if she wasn't careful, it got bunched up
on her legs. Wavy blonde hair perfectly in place, she stuck out
her pink-lipstick covered lower lip in a sexy pout as she
considered her options. If Riker was going to fire her... Even
the thought made her lower lip quiver and her eyes brighten with
tears. Without thinking, she pulled the small makeup mirror out
of her desk drawer and checked her makeup; wouldn't do to have
the mascara run.
Now, what had Carol said about saving the job?
"He wants to talk to me?" she asked, voice quavering.
Carol nodded. "Right now. I convinced him that we can still
use you around the office, but he wants to hear from you how much
you want to work here."
Barbara sighed, breasts heaving beneath her skimpy blouse,
and nodded in agreement.
She did want the job.
"And don't forget," Carol added, following as the older
woman left the office. "If you get fired, there will be no money
for the bankruptcy. You may yet end up in jail."
This thought sent another chill of fear through Barbara as
she hustled down the hallway, walking expertly on the five inch
heels.
Carol and Phyllis watched her go, the latter staring
hungrily at Barbara's ass.
"Well," Carol sighed. "This is it."
Phyllis looked up at and smiled hopefully. "You haven't
forgotten..."
"No." Carol shook her head. "If things go as planned, she'll
be all yours."
"...and I really, really need the job Mr Riker..."
Even now, Riker couldn't believe the change. Just three
months ago, Barbara Dahlton had been one of the toughest, most
competent executives in the Company; a shoe-in for Baxter's job.
And now...
"...I promise not to mess up again. That was..."
And now, here she was... looking like some kind of blonde
sex-bimbo, practically begging to be kept on.
"...so please give me another chance."
She finally ran down and fell silent. Riker let his gaze
move slowly over her body, starting from her five-inch pumps, up
her long, sleek legs, barely covered by the short skirt, up to
her large, firm breasts and beautiful, tarty face and blonde
hair. God she looked hot!
"But you understand," he said, fighting to keep the lust
from his voice, "that you can't stay at your present position and
salary?"
"Oh, yes Mr Riker."
And the gum; made her look like such a tart!
"And you don't mind acting as Ms Fawkner's personal
secretary? She's pretty new..."
"Oh no," came the answer. "I like working for Carol."
Riker paused for a moment. She seemed awfully anxious to
keep the job; and she looked so sexy standing there like that...
his dick was straining against the fabric of his pants.
A thought occurred to him.
But... well, why not?
She was just another office bimbo now.
"I'm not so sure," he said lazily, getting up and walking
around to stand in front of his desk, "that you're really right
for the job." He leaned back against the desk, legs slightly
spread. "How much do you want it?"
Barbara swallowed, eyes brightening with tears.
But she knew what to do.
Slowly, forcing a sexy smile on her vacant face, Barbara
Dahlton - Barbie Dahl - knelt down in front of Riker and reached
over to undo his zipper with her long, brightly painted nails...
*****
"What a bimbo!"
The small circle of people laughed as the object of the
comment, Barbie Dahl, entered the room where the office summer
party was being held. As usual, she was dressed provocatively:
six inch heels, black stocking and ultra-short leather skirt,
tank top... on the whole, just barely within the bounds of
acceptability at the party. And, as usual, the clothes looked
great on her; the regular trips to Workout World had worked
wonders on her body.
"Who is she?" The speaker was a new trainee executive.
Carol smiled at her. "That's Barbie," she answered. "She's
my personal assistant. Just a sec, I'll introduce you." The
blonde woman turned and called out: "Barbie! Here, girl." The
woman, Barbie, flushed a bright red as the people in the room
laughed, but she quickly came over, walking expertly on the
heels.
Barbara - Barbie - felt herself flush with embarrassment and
humiliation as she approached the group. Six months ago, she had
been their equal or superior, and now...
"Hello Barbie," Carol greeted her.
"Ma'am," Barbie nodded, eyes cast downward. Carol was very
strict about that: she was always to refer to Carol as "ma'am" in
public. As well, she was under strict orders never to talk about
business around other people. In private, Carol was happy to pick
her brains about business and the Company, but in public she was
to be an airhead.
Pretty, but vacant.
"I want you to meet Sandra," Carol said, smiling. "Sandra
Janson, this is Barbie, my personal assistant." Barbie looked up
at Sandra but didn't speak. "Barbie," Carol admonished, "say
hello."
Barbie flushed again. "Hello Ms Janson," she said in a small
voice. She hated this; the girl was fifteen years her junior.
"Hello Barbie," the girl answered, smirking.
The group laughed.
"If you'll excuse me for a moment," Carol said to the group,
"I just want a word with Barbie. She gets so confused when she
isn't told what to do."
Another round of laughter, and Barbie heard the new girl
mutter "what a bimbo" as she walked away.
"Barbie," Carol stated, matter of fact now that she was no
longer 'performing', "Riker wants to meet with you in his office.
And Simpson is going to be here later." Barbie shuddered; she
knew what that meant. For the last couple of months, Carol had
been using her to keep Simpson happy - using her as a "business
whore" Carol called it - while Carol did the deals and got the
credit. So far it had worked out great for everyone but Barbie -
the Company got the work; Carol got the credit; and Simpson got
full use of Barbie usually at least once or twice a week. Carol
was so happy with the arrangement, that she was planning to use
Barbie in the same capacity with other customers. ("Between your
pussy and my brains...") "He'll be expecting you to hang all over
him at the party and then accompany him back to his hotel room."
Barbie couldn't help but tremble at the small shiver of lust in
her tummy; she just couldn't help herself. She hated every moment
of being with Simpson, but for some reason, she just couldn't
stop coming.
And the thought of being forced to sleep with other
customers...
"I've spoken to Phyllis," Carol continued. "She won't be
expecting you home until tomorrow." Barbie shuddered again at the
thought of the red headed secretary. Between the drop in pay and
the percentage taken by the trustee in bankruptcy, Barbara had no
longer been able to afford her own apartment. Carol had arranged
for Phyllis to take her in, and the two women now lived together.
Barbie was still not a lesbian, despite the best efforts of her
roommate, but she had learned how to suck pussy and fake
excitement sufficiently well to satisfy Phyllis.
She hated it, though.
Every second of it.
"Barbie!" The blonde bimbo heard her name spoken, this time
by a male voice. It was Riker, standing across the room in a
doorway. "I want to see you right away," he called to her. This
brought another round of laughter from the party-goers. Everyone
knew what was going to happen at the meeting.
"Off you go," Carol told her, giving her a pat on the ass.
"Have a good time."
Flushing a bright red, Barbie walked across the room,
followed by a good number of lustful stares from the men in the
room. It had been several days since she had been gang banged in
the storeroom, and they were getting restless again.
This week for sure.
Carol felt a hand across her shoulders and looked up to see
Brad smiling down at her.
"Everything OK?" he asked.
She smiled back and gave him a quick hug. "Perfect," she
told him. "Couldn't be better."
From behind her, she heard the booming voice of Harold
Simpson as he entered the party. He already sounded half drunk,
and seemed ready to have some fun.
She looked up at Brad and the two of them laughed. Maybe
things could get better...
THE END
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As usual, all comments are appreciated.
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