REPOST: PARKER11.TXT -- M/F, NC -- 3/4
CAREER OPPORTUNITIES
by Parker
an210088@anon.penet.fi
WARNING: There's not a lot of sex in this one. Mostly just
the setup, really. Still, if you stick with it, there's
bound to be some of that sort of stuff in the future.
Copyright 1994 by me (Parker). Feel free to distribute
(unaltered) as you will, but be discrete.
=================================================================
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 adjustments, 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.
