REPOST: PARKER11.TXT -- M/F, NC -- 1/4
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.
=================================================================
"What a bimbo!"
The small circle of people suddenly fell silent as everyone looked away,
embarrassed. The speaker, Barbara Dahlton, smirked knowingly at this reaction.
Predictable. She brushed back her thick brown hair and pretended not to notice
when one of her co- workers made a tentative effort to change the topic. It was
typical, really. People thought that just because she was a woman she was
supposed to be supportive of the other female employees as the company.
Fat chance.
The subject of conversation - and hence Barbara's unflattering attention -
had been the company's newest employee, Carol Louise Fawkner. At only
twenty-two, she was by far the youngest executive in the office, male or
female. This was an extremely impressive accomplishment, but not one which was
totally unexpected for someone who had done as well as she had in university:
top marks in her MBA at Harvard Business School as well as the two-time
recipient the state of California's 'Young Entrepreneur' award (personally
handed out by J Danforth Quayle!). Ben Keating, the senior VP in charge of
recruitment had gone on at some length about how lucky the company had been to
get her. Carol could have worked for some of the big boys in New York, but had
instead chosen a medium sized firm in LA.
Barbara, on the other hand, had attributed Carol's educational success
more to the girl's stunning good looks than any alleged intellectual capacity.
Barbara had lately wondered aloud - on more than one occasion - how many
professors the girl had fucked for her grades. There was no doubt about it:
Carol was an extraordinarily beautiful young woman. She stood only about 5'3",
but was perfectly proportioned: slender, with long legs, a narrow waist and
small, firm breasts. Her face was delicately formed, with high cheekbones and
large, green eyes that shone out beneath a tousle of curly blonde hair.
Unfortunately for her career ambitions, her appearance was that of a much
younger girl, making it very difficult for her to command the respect she
needed to do her job properly and effectively. When this was added to the fact
that she was by nature quite shy (blushing easily), it explained why she had
not been anywhere near as effective in the firm as Keating had originally hoped
and expected. As well, she was having the difficulties all new graduates had in
applying their academic knowledge to practical work situations.
Another, and by no means insignificant, difficulty Carol was experiencing
at work was directly attributable to Barbara. As the senior female executive in
the company, Barbara had felt threatened by this young 'star'. As well as
fearing the younger girl's ability, Barbara secretly resented her beauty. It
was not that Barbara was unattractive - she was well formed, with a slender
waist, large breasts and a handsome-if-not- conventionally-beautiful face
framed by thick, brown hair. In fact, Barbara would have been beautiful if she
had not spent her career disguising this particular attribute. She was not,
however, even remotely in the same league as Carol Louise Fawkner.
Very few women were.
Hence, she went out of her way to make things as difficult as possible for
the new employee. She did nothing too overt, of course, but instead worked
behind the scenes to undermine Carol's authority and make it more difficult for
the young girl to function. And her efforts had paid off. Normally, Barbara was
relatively circumspect about her feelings, taking great pains to ensure that no
one was aware of her actions. Tonight, however, at the office Christmas party,
Barbara was feeling pretty confident. She had it on good authority that Carol's
one year contract would not be renewed, and the girl would be let go at the
next review just over four months hence. She knew that she had done a good job
of making certain that no one at the office took the girl seriously, and no
longer cared who knew about it. In short, she was a little drunk, and wanted to
have some fun.
At the younger girl's expense.
Of course.
Carol, feeling uncomfortable and out of place as she always did at such
functions, nervously approached the group of people standing around the bar.
Gerry was there; so was Mark Prentiss and Brad Tymmens. And Barbara Dahlton.
Ordinarily, Carol would have been too shy to impose herself on the group, but
she felt a little more confident with Barbara there. Carol was shy, but she
wasn't stupid; she was well aware of her beauty and the effect it had on men.
On the whole, she would have preferred not to appear as she did, but there was
no helping that. All attempts to hide or disguise her beauty - severe
hairstyles, conservative, unattractive clothing; she had tried it all - were
wasted on her. Her appearance was one of the reasons she was so shy around her
co-workers. She knew she didn't look the part of a business person, and it was
this self-consciousness which weakened her and made her uncertain of herself.
It was different when Barbara was there, though. Besides the presence of
another woman in the group, Carol had always found Barbara to be personally
supportive and encouraging. The older woman - only mid-thirties, really - was
always willing to listen to Carol's ideas, even when Carol was too unsure of
herself to put them forward herself. Of all the people in the office, Barbara
was the one she felt the most comfortable with.
Of course, the fact that Brad Tymmens, with his dark hair and blue eyes
was there as well didn't hurt...
"Hi."
This tentative greeting was met with a round of absolute silence, as the
members of the group shifted uncomfortably. Brad looked down at his feet,
waiting for the inevitable. Carol seemed like a nice girl and he liked her a
lot, but it was undeniable that she wasn't working out at the office. He didn't
necessarily like Barbara all that much, but she did hold a position of power in
the company; given Carol's precarious position, it would be foolish to take her
side against anything Barbara might have to say.
And it seemed that Barbara had some things to say.
"Hello Carol," she chimed, mock friendly. "So glad you could join us."
"Thanks."
Brad choked back a cough. The poor girl sounded relieved.
Stupid.
"In fact," Barbara continued, "we were just talking about you. About your
handling of the Hessen-Gerber sale." That particular file had ended in disaster
due to Carol's inexperience and lack of confidence. What should have been a
profitable sales transaction with a German company had ended in threatened
litigation and, finally, termination of an interim agreement. Everyone knew
that it was Carol's fault.
Even Carol.
The poor girl flushed. It made her look years younger; and not, Brad
couldn't help but notice, all the more attractive. "W- what do you mean?" she
stammered. "I've talked to..."
"Well." Barbara was sneering openly now. "We were all just curious as to
how you managed to miss the completion date for the cost proposals."
"I..."
"I mean," Barbara interrupted, "it couldn't have been easy. We even
negotiated two extensions for you."
"Barbara. Why are..."
"The germans were most impressed."
Carol looked as though she were about to start crying at any moment. The
others in the group started down at their feet, up at the ceiling, across the
room... anywhere other than at the bloodletting that was occurring in front of
them. Brad felt terrible about it, but nonetheless suddenly found the ice cubes
in his drink extremely fascinating.
"At least we didn't get sued this time," Barbara went on relentlessly.
"Not like the Yakamoto Contract." Another disaster file which Carol had worked
on. "Or our supply contract with Point Hope. You've almost got a perfect
record, honey."
Carol just stared, well beyond the point of objecting or protesting. She
was well aware of the fact that her career with the company had gotten off to a
rough start, but she was working hard to improve. Up to now, she had thought
that Barbara had been one of her supporters...
"Well, don't worry about too much," Barbara told her. "Things aren't
working out where you are, but I'm sure we'll find something else for you soon.
Something more suitable." The brunette paused a moment, looking sideways at her
co-workers. Sharing the joke. "I understand there's some openings coming up in
the typing pool," she said. "They're always looking for one or two more blonde
bimbos to take dictation and do... 'other' jobs."
This was too much for Carol. Choking back a sob, she turned and moved
away, practically running in hasty retreat. Barbara sneered as her victim fled.
"Bimbo," she muttered.
Beside her, Brad gritted his teeth in anger and frustration. He wasn't
sure who he hated most: Barbara for her treatment of the younger employee, or
himself for not trying to stop it.
*****
"I can't believe what a bitch she was."
"I believe it."
The car moved slowly over the rain-soaked streets. Brad Tymmens stared
moodily out the window at the ink-black scenery as Rodney Parsons steered the
car. Rodney was also an employee of the company, in charge of the IT
department. They were on their way home from the office Christmas party.
"She treated that poor girl so badly," Brad continued, drumming his
fingers angrily on the dashboard. "I should have told her to shut the fuck up."
"And lost your job," Rodney commented.
Brad grunted in agreement. The strict new policies at work regarding any
sort of harassment of the female employees would no doubt have classified any
such outburst on the part of a male employee as sexual discrimination and would
have resulted in Brad losing his job. In fact, Barbara had already used such
tactics a couple of times to remove male co-workers who opposed her. Only a
woman would have gotten away with treating Carol the way she had been treated
at the party.
And, it seemed, a woman had done just that.
"Bullshit," Brad muttered.
"Hey," Rodney answered him, "I don't like it any more than you do. But
what can we do about it? That Barbara's a first class cunt, but she's going
places in the firm. Rumour has is she's up for sales VP in a few months. And
Carol... well, she's just not working out." He shook his head, ever practical.
"There's no point in losing your job over that."
Brad couldn't disagree. But... "I just wish that there was some way we
could pay her back without getting into trouble."
"What do you mean?"
"Some way to make her look like an idiot," Brad explained, chewing on his
lip in thought. "Some way to..." His face lit up. "Wait a minute."
"What?"
"Remember you were telling me about that drug your wife was taking for
pain."
Rodney nodded. His wife Tracy had been hit by a car a couple of months
ago, shattering her hip. It was healing, but there was still a lot of pain.
Rather than prescribe usual pain killers, the doctors had suggested that she
use a new drug. This drug, bi- trexicol, acted like morphine - deadening the
pain - but was not at all addictive. The side effect was that it seemed to slow
down the mental processes of the user, making the user appear rather slow and
stupid. Tracy hadn't like this effect, and preferred to use other pain killers.
There was a container with a number of bi-trexicol tablets sitting in the
medicine cabinet at home.
"So?"
"So... why don't we slip a couple to Barbara before the sales group
meeting tomorrow?"
"What!? Man, that's crazy. We could get in all kinds of shit."
"Only if we got caught." Brad was excited now. This was the perfect way to
get back at Barbara. "And it's not dangerous. All it'll do is make her a bit
confused at the meeting and she'll fuck up her report or something."
"Well..." Rodney reconsidered. He wouldn't do it himself, but if Brad were
willing to take the chance... Hell, it wouldn't hurt to see Barbara taken down
a peg or two.
It might even be fun!
"Alright," he decided. "I'm in."
It would be a simple matter to pack the drugs in his briefcase the next
morning before leaving for work.
*****
Barbara leaned wearily against the side of her desk and tried to clear her
head. It had been a disaster! She had never been so humiliated in her life.
What should have been a simple sales report - the kind of thing she had done
numerous times before - had turned into a confused jumble of mistakes,
misunderstandings and confusion on her part. She just couldn't understand it.
Everything had been prepared going in, but once she started her presentation
she had found herself unable to focus. Words, numbers, concepts... things she
knew backwards and forwards were all of a sudden a complete mystery to her. At
first it seemed to go pretty well, but after a while she began to stumble over
her facts. Robert Baxter, the present VP in charge of sales - AND THE MAN WHO
WOULD PICK HIS SUCCESSOR - had corrected her, at first gently and
unobtrusively, but then with increasing annoyance and frustration. At last,
openly angry, he had cancelled the presentation and ordered her to report to
his office later that afternoon.
She had almost been in tears. Even now, over two hours later, she was
unable to think of anything other than the impending encounter. Barbara checked
her watch: almost 4:00 - time for the meeting. She felt better now than she had
during the presentation - sharper, more focused. Confident of her ability to
deal with the problem. Still, a couple more sips of coffee wouldn't hurt. She
needed to be on her toes if she wanted to save her promotion. With one swallow,
she finished the lukewarm mug of coffee which had been sitting beside her on
the desk.
Time to go...
*****
Brad glanced up surreptitiously from where he was pretending to be hunting
for a file in one of the hall storage cabinets. From where he stood, he could
just see into Barbara's office through the partially open door.
She was drinking another cup of coffee!
Perfect. It had been the coffee in which he had elected to dissolve the
tablets. Barbara had her own coffee maker in her office so that she could drink
her own premium blend. (Typical!) Brad had slipped four tablets in during his
morning report to her in her office, and then another four while she was in the
big sales meeting, just in the hope of carrying the mischief a little farther.
So far things seemed to be working out perfectly. Neither he nor Rodney
had been present during Barbara's presentation - the one big drawback to his
plan - but from the look on the bitch's face afterward, things had apparently
worked out pretty much as planned. Barbara - looking like she was about to
throw up - had marched directly to her office and slammed shut the door. Over
the next few hours, word of her pathetic performance had peculated through the
office with the speed of juicy gossip. Barbara had only emerged from her office
a couple of times to deal with matters that couldn't be put off, but had
basically spent the afternoon by herself.
By now, of course, the entire firm knew of her impending confrontation
with Robert Baxter. The meeting was to take place in his office, which, in
Brad's opinion, was absolutely perfect. Better than they had any right to
expect, Rodney had agreed, before driving home to pick up his video camera.
The video camera.
The inside of Baxter's office could be viewed from behind a one-way mirror
in an adjoining storage closet. The entrance to the closet was in Baxter's
receptionist's office. She was often asked by Baxter to observe sensitive
meeting from the closet in order to be in a position to verify his version of
events should matters go awry and litigation ensue, a stratagem which had come
in handy more than once. The receptionist - Phyllis Morden - was an extremely
conscientious woman, who took her responsibilities very seriously. She would
never allow anyone into the locked storage closet without the knowledge and
permission of her boss.
Phyllis Morden also hated Barbara Dahlton with a passion.
This hatred was understandable. Barbara's contempt for the female support
staff had not endeared her to many, and Phyllis Morden - who was facing the
unpalatable prospect of choosing between losing her job or working for Barbara
after Baxter left - nurtured a special loathing her. To make matters worse,
Barbara had shown little restraint in making fun of Phyllis's weight problem
(the office "Roseanne", Barbara had called her).
The final straw was that Phyllis was gay, and had experience something of
a crush on Barbara when she had first started working at the Company.
In the end, it had been a simple matter to convince Phyllis that
witnessing Barbara being chewed out was more important than some minor rule
regarding access to closets. Besides, it was pointed out, Baxter only had
another few months to go before retirement; loyalty to a man in such a position
seemed a bit unnecessary, if not outright foolish.
And that was why, at precisely 4:00 that afternoon, Brad Tymmens, Rodney
Parsons with his video camera and Phyllis Morden were watching intently as
Barbara entered the office of Robert Baxter, VP in charge of sales.
*****
Barbara walked slowly through the door into Baxter's office. His bitch of
a secretary hadn't been at her desk, so she had been forced to announce herself
on the office intercom. The speaker's tinny reproduction of Baxter's
expressionless "come in" had somehow made the encounter all the more
frightening to her. By the time she pushed open the door, her hands were
shaking and her stomach was tied in knots. Worst of all, she had started
feeling the same dazed and confused feeling that had come over her in the
meeting.
Drawing a deep breath, she entered the office and closed the door behind
her. (No point in giving anyone the opportunity of listening in!) Time to get
this over with.
"There she is!"
"Shh..." Brad elbowed Rodney in the side, concerned that his loud friend
would give them away.
"Don't worry about it," Phyllis told him, her voice at a conversational
level. "Baxter had this room pretty much soundproofed. There are microphones
picking up what goes on inside the office, but nothing short of screaming will
be heard on the other side."
Relieved, Brad turned back to the window.
Robert Baxter sat upright behind his desk, looking solemn and forbidding.
News of his retirement had sent a flurry of speculation through the office,
with the eventual consensus being that he was being put aside as too
conservative for modern business practices. Too rigid; too hold fashioned. He
certainly looked the party. At fifty-seven, Robert Baxter had the appearance of
a man ten years his junior, with a stern, almost military posture, intense blue
eyes and deep tan. Only his thin, yellow-grey hair gave any indication of his
true age. Indeed, he would have been an attractive man, had it not been for a
large, purple birthmark that covered half his face and a set of blackened teeth
where gum disease and decay had taken their toll. Not only did this latter
feature give his smile a lopsided rotting appearance, but the resulting
halitosis - the younger employees called him 'dragon-breath' behind his back;
the more experienced ones just didn't talk about him - made any sort of close
up conversation with him a test of endurance. Rumour had it he left his teeth
that way to give him an edge in negotiations.
Whatever the truth of it was, he was out. In three months. As a concession
to his experience and position in the company, however, he had been given the
power to choose his successor. Barbara had been the heir-apparent.
Until now.
"Ms. Dahlton," he droned in his gravely, monotone voice after Barbara had
taken the seat in front of him, "I want you to know that I was very
disappointed in your performance in the meeting today."
Barbara stiffened.
"You were obviously unprepared for the presentation. You were an
embarrassment to me and to the company. A student - even Carol Fawkner - could
have done a better job."
Barbara felt her face go red. Sure, she had been a little slow, but...
"As you know, I will be leaving the company in a few months, and I have
until now taken the position that you were the best person to take over my
job." He looked her straight in the eye with his basilisk gaze. "Now," he
continued, "I'm beginning to have doubts."
"Sir... Mr Baxter..." Barbara struggled to find something to say in her
own defence, but the same murky, confused feeling that had sabotaged her
performance in the meeting earlier that day had once again enveloped her. Her
tongue felt thick and swollen, and her mind struggled in vain to grasp what was
going on.
"Now," he continued, looking pained and disappointed as she stammered
ineffectually, "I am going to take you over these figures you failed to explain
this morning, and we are going to make certain that you do know something about
your job." He leaned forward as he spoke the last few words. The smell of his
breath washed over Barbara like a fetid tide. "Is that understood?"
Barbara, trying desperately to breath only out of her mouth, could only
nod her head in agreement.
Phyllis chuckled nastily. This was better than she had expected. Worth
getting fired for. The fat redhead fully expected to lose her job in three
months time; either Barbara would fire her when she took over Baxter's
position, or she would quit, unable to work for such a bitch. This bit of
advance payback was going down very well.
Try as she might, Barbara found herself unable to comprehend the facts and
figures on the paper in front of her. Damn it... she KNEW this stuff. Inside
and out. She'd known it for years. But, no matter how hard she tried, she found
herself completely incapable of discussing it with Baxter - the man whose
decision it was who would become the next VP in charge of sales. Baxter had
opened up the report and was taking her through it step by step, pointing out
each section and asking her to explain what it meant and how it related to the
overall sales figures and marketing strategy. And, each time, no matter how
simple it was, Barbara stumbled over her explanation, giving the impression
that she knew nothing about the report. It quickly became apparent to her that
not only was her future promotion going down the tube, but so was her present
job.
Upset by yet another failure to explain a figure, she looked over at her
boss. As he had done a number of times already, he had stopped talking and was
looking over at her. She looked back, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. 'Pity,'
she thought, 'he just feels sorry for...'
But that wasn't it.
His gaze had dropped down from her face to... to her chest.
Surreptitiously, Barbara glanced downward. There it was... as she had leaned
over the desk to look at the report, the top button of her blouse had come
undone, partially exposing the upper swell of her breasts.
Baxter was staring at her breasts!
Just as she reached this realization, Baxter tore his gaze away from her
and began talking again about the report. Barbara, however, had stopped
listening. He had been staring at her breasts! A tiny spark of an idea - faint
and tentative - flickered across her mind, quickly fanning itself into a full
blown thought. Baxter had been staring at her breasts! Maybe... just maybe she
could save her job and her promotion. Trying not to be obvious, Barbara brought
her hand up and slipped loose another button. After stretching her shoulders
slightly to expose as much breast as possible, she leaned forward to give him
the best possible view.
Maybe... just maybe she could come out of this with her job and promotion
intact.
"What's she doing?"
Rodney looked puzzled.
"I don't know," Brad answered excitedly, "but whatever you do, keep
filming!"
Rodney, whose view of the scene in Baxter's office was framed by the four
sides of the viewfinder on his video camera, nodded in silent agreement.
Baxter had stopped talking again.
It was working!
He was staring over at her chest again. Not knowing whether to laugh or
cry at her success, Barbara lightly placed her hand on top of his where he was
holding the report. Was it too much? Too soon? Barbara could only hope that she
was playing things correctly. She'd had little experience in this or any other
sort of seduction.
"Ms. Dahlton... Barbara..." For the first time, Baxter actually seemed a
little unsure of himself. A little uncomfortable.
"Yes?" Barbara smiled across the table at him, trying her best to look
sexy. She knew that she was attractive - or could be with a little effort - but
she had spent years playing down her physical appearance. She had learned early
on in her career that men didn't respect attractive women; at least, not in the
way she wanted to be respected. It was not easy now to try to overcome all that
effort, but she was willing to try in order to save her promotion.
And her job.
"Barbara," he stammered, "I... this report..."
"Maybe," she told him, fighting to enunciate clearly through the fog that
still enveloped her consciousness, "if you were to come around her and explain
it to me?" Her voice sounded low and unnatural to her; how she imagined a voice
might sound if it were sexy; inviting.
It seemed to do the trick. Moving quickly, Baxter stood up and came around
to her side of the desk. He leaned over her chair and pulled the report across
the desk so that it was right in front of them.
His hands were trembling.
"Now," he continued, trying to remain businesslike, "the market
figures..."
Barbara tuned out his voice as she considered her position. Could she
really go through with this? With that breath? If she didn't, she could kiss
the promotion goodbye and probably her job as well. But if she did... well,
maybe it wouldn't be so bad. A few kisses... maybe even sleep with him once or
twice... He'd be gone in a few months, and, once she was safely in position as
VP, she could get rid of him easily enough.
Maybe...
"And when the numbers are applied to future..." The droning stopped when
she once again placed her hand on top of his.
"Barbara..."
Slowly, insistently, she pulled his hand off the report and guided it over
to her breasts. He didn't help, but allowed her to slip his hand down the top
of her blouse and over one of her breasts. She could feel the pulse in his
wrist speed up as he - at last on his own initiative - squeezed her breast. She
started to squirm away in discomfort, but quickly remembered what she was
doing; and what she was trying to do.
Breathing heavily, Barbara leaned back in her chair and moaned in
simulated passion as Baxter slipped his other gnarled hand down the top of her
blouse and began fondling both of her breasts.
"I don't believe this."
The three observers stared, open mouthed with wonder, as Barbara writhed
on the chair while Baxter popped open the front of her blouse, exposing her
large, firm breasts beneath the thick cover of the utilitarian bra. The
covering too was soon removed, as Baxter reached down behind Barbara and jerked
it open.
"Nice tits," Rodney commented, as Baxter's hungry hands cupped and kneaded
them. Phyllis nodded in agreement.
This activity went on for a few more moments before Baxter came around
beside the chair, leaned down and brought his mouth onto Barbara's face.
"My god," Phyllis muttered. She had spent years dealing with Baxter's
halitosis. "How can she..."
Barbara almost gagged with revulsion at his fetid breath, but nevertheless
opened her own mouth to welcome his tongue. More than that, she actively kissed
back, thrusting her tongue back at his, as he once again began to manipulate
her breasts. It didn't hurt, really, but it was very uncomfortable. And
humiliating. Nevertheless, job and promotion firmly in the front of her mind,
Barbara moaned and grunted on the chair, just as she imagined she would sound
if she were actually enjoying the activity.
This kissing and fondling went on for a while. Finally, it dawned on
Barbara that she was to make the next move. Baxter was waiting for her. Panting
with revulsion at the smell of his breath, she reached over with one shaking
hand and began undoing his pants. That was what he had been waiting for. He
dropped her breast - red and shiny from where he had been biting and licking -
and helped her undo his pants. Within seconds, his cock - thick and covered
with large purple veins - sprang free. Barbara immediately felt a kind of
horrid fascination with this ugly thing as he guided her hand onto it.
Tentatively, she grasped it as he wished and began running her hand along it,
up and down... up and down. Almost immediately, a glistening of pre-cum
appeared.
Barbara moaned, this time with real fear, as he pulled her off the chair
and down to her knees in front of him: eye to eye with his cock. She knew what
he wanted though, and she had already gone too far to back out now. Not if she
wanted her job. And besides, she thought, slipping her mouth over Baxter's cock
and sucking it in, his cock doesn't stink like his breath.
"Quite the little slut when her job's on the line," Phyllis commented,
looking hungrily as Barbara sucked and slurped hungrily at Baxter's cock. The
sounds were clearly audible through the microphones in the office.
"Oh no," Rodney laughed, still filming. "I'm sure it's love. Look at her
go!" Phyllis smirked at this sarcasm.
Brad remained silent, his cock swollen in his pants. He was thinking of
Carol; she should be here, seeing this...
Finally, Baxter reached his limit.
Roughly, he pulled Barbara's mouth off his cock, causing a long,
glistening trail of spit and pre-cum to trail from her lips to the tip of his
cock. He lifted her, and placed her down on the edge of his desk.
"Spread your legs," he mumbled, voice thick with lust.
"Oh... yes."
Barbara, frightened but determined to carry on to save her job, complied.
She quickly slipped off her panties, pulled up her gray, business-skirt and
leaned back across the desk, legs spread in obvious invitation and tits hanging
free.
"Fuck me," she moaned.
Baxter needed no further encouragement. He leaned forward between her legs
and drove his cock into her exposed pussy, burying it to the hilt with one
powerful thrust. Barbara squealed with pain as the cock was driven into her
still-dry pussy, but immediately turned it into a grunt of passion.
The job!
"Oh yes... yes... yes..." She moaned and bucked beneath her boss as he
brutally fucked her on his desk, doing her best to give the impression of a
woman overcome by lust as he sawed his cock in and out of her pussy. This,
despite the fact that every thrust sent waves of pain through her raw pussy.
Fortunately, Baxter didn't last long. Within thirty seconds, he stiffened
and grunted. Barbara, thankful that he was coming so quickly, wrapped her legs
around behind him and began squealing loudly, as if she too were coming. The
two of this held this position - him grunting and her squealing - for a good
ten seconds before he suddenly relaxed, releasing his weight on top of her,
passion spent.
Barbara too allowed herself to relax. It was over.
And maybe... just maybe, she told herself as she felt the first trickle of
sperm dribble out of her pussy and down her ass crack, I've saved my job.
END PART ONE
=================================================================
As usual, all comments are appreciated.
REPOST: PARKER11.TXT -- M/F, NC -- 2/4
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.
=================================================================
"This isn't gonna work."
Rodney was his usual optimistic self.
"Sure it will." Brad was confident.
But not that confident.
"It will, won't it?" He looked over at Phyllis who grinned and nodded in
response.
"No problem," she told him. "I've been signing old dragon breath's
correspondence for so long now, no one could tell the difference. Same with
Susan." Susan Morrow was Barbara's secretary, and a close friend of Phyllis.
She had her own reasons to hate her boss. "As far as anyone will be able to
tell," Phyllis concluded, putting down the piece of paper, "the letters will be
properly signed."
Rodney still looked doubtful, but he nodded his head. It would be so much
fun if it worked...
*****
Robert Baxter was not generally a happy man.
His career with the Company had been a long and successful one, but the
end was in sight now, and he had discovered, to his surprise and trepidation,
that he knew nothing else. The Company was his quite literally his whole life.
He had started out as a young clerk in the mail room and slowly risen through
the ranks until finally reaching his present position. It was quite an
achievement. His success, however, had been achieved without the benefit of a
formal education, and he had risen just about as far as he could.
Perhaps, he sometimes thought, too far. Perhaps they wanted a younger,
more educated man in his post at the Company. Maybe that was why they refused
to accept his offer to carry on past the legal age of retirement.
Six more months. That was all.
Bastards.
Barbara now... maybe she was different. Despite being a woman - Baxter was
old-fashioned enough to consider it inappropriate for a woman to have a
business career - she really seemed to appreciate his experience and wisdom.
She, of all the bright, young executives who seemed to infest the Company
boardrooms these days, seemed to understand and seek out his tutelage. It was
true, of course, that she'd screwed up royally at the last sales meeting; she'd
messed up a presentation a rookie could have spewed out with ease. But
afterwards...
Afterwards.
Baxter was not a popular man with women. He'd been married once, but that
had been so long ago that he had to page through dusty, yellowing photo albums
to recall his wife's face. Since then, he had lived only for his career, only
engaging in sexual relations to relieve physical needs.
Hookers, mostly.
But Barbara... well, she was a beautiful woman. He'd always found her
attractive; indeed, that was one of the main reasons he had agreed to have her
work in his department in the first place. The respect for her abilities came
later. He had never, however, even for a moment thought that the attraction
might be mutual. After all, he was over thirty years older than her.
Why would she want him?
Still, that seemed to be exactly what she did want. He had felt her eyes
on him during the meeting, watching... sizing him up. Finally, he had been
unable to resist it any longer. Perhaps it was the fact that his career with
the Company was pretty much over that allowed him to break free of his usual
reserve and make the first move. Maybe he just no longer cared about all those
new "sexual harassment" policies. Whatever, it had proved to be the right thing
to do. She'd melted into his arms, and had turned out to be - as they used to
say when he was just a boy - hot as a two dollar whore.
It had been an exhilarating experience.
Still, he had felt more than a little nervous the following monday at the
office. What would she say? How would she act? Would he find himself charged
with sexual harassment? The answer came to him in the form of a note from
Barbara.
A wonderful note.
Hands shaking, he picked it up to read through it one more time. His eyes
didn't even focus on the actual writing; by now, he knew every word of it by
heart. By heart. Nevertheless, his eyes scanned the page eagerly...
'Dearest Robert, last friday was so wonderful I can't
begin to tell you how I feel. I know that I often put on a
very hard, reserved front at work, but that is not the real
me. Underneath, I am a seething volcano of sexual wants and
needs. You are the only person at the company to have seen
this in me. This is embarrassing to say, but after what
happened in your office, I feel I can tell you anything.
Please don't stop. I need sex and I need it every day. The
rougher the better. Don't ask; don't take me out on dates or
spend money on me; don't accept 'no' for an answer: just
take me whenever and wherever you want. I find it
particularly exciting when you talk dirty to me: call me a
whore or a bitch - the dirtier the better.
I hope this letter has not scared you off. I don't
think it will, as you are the first real man I have met at
the Company.
Please don't show this letter to anybody.'
(signed) 'Barbara Dahlton'
That was her signature all right. He had seen it hundreds of times before
on memos and reports and the like. Even with that, however, he could scarcely
believe what he was reading.
But believe it he did.
After folding up the letter and slipping it into his briefcase, he reached
over and punched the transmit button on his intercom. "Phyllis," he asked,
"Please ask Ms. Dahlton to see me in my office right away."
"Yes sir."
Impatiently, he leaned back in his chair to wait, one hand reaching down
and absentmindedly stroking his rock hard penis...
*****
Barbara stared down at the piece of paper in her hand, glaring
suspiciously as if it might at any moment turn into some kind of poisonous
viper and inject her with venom. A memo, or, more accurately, a note. From
Baxter.
The bastard.
It read:
'Barbara: You are a great fuck. I've been watching that
hot body of yours prance around the office for years
now, and I've dreamed of fucking it in so many ways
that it'd make your head spin. Until last week, I
didn't know the you felt the same way about me. You are
one hot bitch, and now that I know it, we will be
spending a lot of time together. As well as the
fucking, I expect that our time together will help you
prepare for your new position in the company after I am
gone.
After reading this note, remove your panties and
come right to my office.'
(signed) 'Robert Baxter'
And there is was: his signature at the bottom. She'd seen it a thousand
times. Bastard probably had his secretary type it up, she thought. Suddenly
enraged, she crumpled the sheet of paper into a ball and drew her arm back to
toss it across the room, but she held onto it at the last moment. There was no
way she was going to be taking any chances that this particular note would fall
into anyone's hands other than her own. The consequences of this note being
picked up and read by the cleaners... Well, that wouldn't happen. She carefully
folded the note and put it into her purse.
The question now was what she was going to do about it. Looking back on
last Friday, she found it difficult to believe that she had acted as she did in
Baxter's office. In fact, the entire episode had a dream-like quality about it.
Or, rather, nightmare-like.
What had she been thinking?
Still, it was done. And now she had to decide how to deal with the
consequences. Barbara hadn't been as successful as she had in business by
avoiding or denying problems. And this, most certainly, was a problem.
She considered the situation as clearly as she could. On one hand, there
was the Company's policy regarding sexual harassment. She had no doubt that
should she choose to reveal the note and make a complaint, Baxter would be
"retiring" a little sooner than planned. There was no evidence of the sexual
encounter in his office, and no one would take his word over her's in that
situation. It was just too unbelievable. That was one possible course of
action.
On the other hand...
On the other hand, her mind kept returning to that one phrase in Baxter's
note: '...I expect that our time together will help you prepare for your new
position in the company after I am gone.' That sounded like a promise; a
promise and a threat: do what I tell you and you will get my position when I
retire; refuse, and you'll remain where you are. If that.
It didn't take Barbara long to make her decision. Her career was
everything to her, and if that was what it took to rise to the top... well, so
be it. She wouldn't be the first woman who slept with the boss in order to get
a promotion. And she wouldn't be the last. Besides, if she got friendly with
Baxter, it might help her increase her influence in the Company beyond what it
would already be. A little careful manoeuvring...
Her mind was made up.
Barbara stood, and, wriggling her hips a little, slid her panties down
from under her long skirt until they lay on the floor at her feet. She picked
them up and slipped them into her desk drawer. After taking a moment to
straighten her hair, she walked out of the room and towards the elevator that
would take her to Baxter's office.
*****
She closed the door softly behind her. Once again, his miserable secretary
- Phyllis, the fat cow - hadn't been at her desk and she had been forced to
announce herself. 'Once the promotion comes through,' she promised herself,
'that bitch is history.'
There he was, sitting behind his desk; watching her with hungry eyes. She
had never before thought of Baxter as a sexual being - god; what woman ever
would? - but she felt it now. Sexual tension. How on earth had he known that
she would go along with his note? Any reasonable, self-respecting woman would
have lodged a complaint within seconds of receiving it. Still... he evidently
knew what he was about: she was here. She gave an inward shudder, a little
frightened at being so easy to read. It was the ambition, of course. She wanted
the promotion and would do just about anything to get it. She deserved the
promotion.
Just about anything.
Consciously trying to be sexy, she walked steadily forward, hips swaying
out a time-worn invitation. As she walked, she slowly ran her pink tongue along
the outside of her lips. She felt more than a little embarrassed, carrying on
in this manner, but it had the desired effect. Baxter's breath quickened as she
moved towards the front of his desk. She didn't have a lot of experience with
this kind of situation - this kind of blatant seduction - but she found that
she was easily able to read the expression in his face.
In his eyes.
Lust.
He felt his cock harden behind the edge of the desk. He had never seen
Barbara like this before: so sleek; so sexy; so hot. It was like something
straight out of a Penthouse forum or something, and he just couldn't believe
that this was happening to him. These things weren't real.
But it was.
Barbara reached the front of his desk and paused there, hands on hips.
Baxter stared openly, his eyes taking in the taut bulge of her breasts as they
strained against the front of her blouse - was she pushing her breasts
outward?; the soft curves of her hips and ass under the grey, conservative
skirt; and, most of all, the look of her face. She was not a great beauty, and
was characteristically wearing little or no makeup, but with her lips slightly
parted and the tip of her tongue sliding sensuously along her lower lip, she
looked as hot as any slut. Any whore.
The note.
Almost too late he remembered: she wanted to be called certain things.
Certain names. His throat clenched up, parched with lust and fear, but he
choked out the words he thought - he believed - she wanted to hear: "Whore!"
Barbara flushed and began to breath a little faster. It was working! She
really did like it! She really did. Feeling a little flushed himself, he rose
quickly from his chair and moved around the desk.
She burned with anger and humiliation as Baxter swore at her a second time
- calling her a 'hot bitch' - and then a third. What the hell did he think he
was doing? As if his stinking breath wasn't bad enough, he treated women
like...
Her train of thought was cut off as he came up behind her and shoved her
against the desk. The breath was knocked out of her as she involuntarily bent
forward, gasping at the sudden pain.
"Little slut," Baxter grunted, clutching at her breasts from behind.
"Little whore."
She started to struggle as he roughly kneaded her aching breasts through
the thin material of her blouse, but then held back. She had made her decision.
She was here for a reason. Baxter's letter had made clear the consequences of
non-compliance with his wishes. With the note as evidence she could certainly
get her fired, but by the time the shit stopped spraying she would be out of
the promotion. Best to play along; give him what he wanted.
For now.
"Oh yesssss..." she moaned, twisting and writhing under his grip.
"Yesss..."
"Gonna fuck you bitch." Baxter leaned forward and whispered this in her
ear. She almost gagged as his putrid breath washed over her face, but still she
opened his mouth to accept his tongue. He kissed her long and hard, raping her
with his mouth while his hands continued to maul her breasts. Moaning and
gargling, she accepted his embrace, kissing back.
As if she were enjoying it.
He reached down and hooked his fingers under the waistband of her skirt.
With one tug, Barbara's skirt slid down and fell into a rough pile around her
sleek ankles. He felt around for her panties, but there were none.
The bitch didn't wear panties.
She really was a slut.
No longer embarrassed or self-conscious, he began to mutter a steady
stream of filth at her, calling her a 'whore' and a 'bitch' and a 'cunt' and
every other filthy name he could dredge up. It was clear that she liked it: her
pants and moans got louder and more frenzied.
"Ahhh... ahhhh.... ahhhh yes...."
By now his cock was rigid with lust. Roughly, he kicked her legs apart and
positioned his cock at the entrance of her pussy.
"What do you want, bitch?" he asked.
"What do you need?"
Her resolve weakened and almost shattered, but she held firm. She had come
this far; might as well go all the way. And, her mind on the job - her reward -
she answered in a soft moan: "Your cock. Please... please fuck me."
And he did.
"Well," Rodney muttered, eyes fixed firmly on the scene in front of him,
"I wouldn't have believed it." He, Brad and Phyllis looked through the one way
mirror at the scene which was being carried out in the office. Barbara, her
large breasts hanging from the ripped-open front of her blouse, was leaning
over the desk, being brutally fucked from behind by Robert Baxter.
"Ohhh... yes.... yessss...."
"She must really want that job," Brad commented. Both men's eyes were
glued to the scene in front of them, so neither saw Phyllis unobtrusively slide
a hand down the front of her skirt and begin rubbing herself.
In the office, Baxter was approaching his climax, and his pace increased,
pumping in and out of the brutalized woman. From their vantage point, the three
viewers could see the expression on Barbara's face - the grimaces of pain and
hatred; the bright red of humiliation - but her voice gave nothing away. She
panted and moaned and grunted just like some common slut.
She even, when Baxter finally came and pumped his wad of sticky cum into
her unprotected pussy, whined and bucked on the desk like she too was coming.
Phyllis, who had just had a real, albeit quieter, orgasm, pulled her sticky
fingers from under her skirt and wiped them clean.
"Oh," Baxter moaned, sliding his now flaccid cock out of Barbara's sopping
pussy, "you are one good fuck."
Barbara moaned in response, but didn't say anything.
*****
The weeks passed...
Baxter was insatiable. Since the death of his wife many years ago, he had
indulged only infrequently in any sexual relations beyond masturbation, and
even then only with prostitutes. He just didn't have the time necessary for
that sort of commitment. The job was everything to him: wife, lover,
children... whatever. That was part of why he felt such a personal sense of
betrayal at his impending forced retirement. It felt to him more like a
personal rejection; more like a divorce. With only several months now remaining
in his employment, he had already spent many nights examining his sorrows
through the bottom of an empty bottle.
Barbara, however... well, she gave him new life; new energy. He had never
met a woman like her before. She made him feel like a man thirty years younger,
both mentally and sexually. He had always, although he had kept it well hidden,
fantasized about taking some tough-minded business woman and treating her like
a common whore; degrading her; talking dirty to her; generally treating her
like a slut. Of course, this had always remained safely a fantasy, certainly
not something he would ever attempt. Baxter wasn't a particularly nice man, but
he wasn't the kind of man to abuse an unwilling woman. As well, he had become
grudgingly aware that women could be as competent as men in business. He had
gradually - no small part the result of the work of women like Barbara Dahlton
- come to accept them as colleagues. This grudging acceptance did not, however,
put a stop to the fantasies.
Then came Barbara. She was different. Special. It was her who had came on
to him; it was her who sent him that note asking - no, begging - him to treat
her like dirt. She genuinely loved to be degraded.
So that was what he did.
At every possible opportunity.
They had "lunch meetings" two or three times a week in which her only
nourishment was his warm sperm, freshly sucked from his cock. There was a
weekend "business trip" during which he fucked her seven times in two days,
twice up the ass. Several times each week he would call her into his office and
have her crawl under the desk to give him a blowjob. Once, his secretary,
Phyllis, had walked in on them during one of these sessions. Baxter had just
pushed Barbara's head down and held her hair so that she had no choice but to
continue sucking while Phyllis completed her business in the office. That
business, it had turned out, ended up taking almost twenty minutes, during
which time Baxter came and Barbara had been forced to swallow as quietly as
possible so as not to alert the busy secretary. Despite, or perhaps because, of
the danger, Baxter had found the whole episode extremely exciting and was hard
again before Phyllis left the office. Barbara had been forced to suck him off a
second time.
After that, he made a special point of taking her in relatively public
places: closets, empty boardrooms, storage rooms... She had protested at first,
but he just called her a 'stinking slut' or words to that effect and that
seemed to break down any resistance.
Besides, she seemed to like it as much as he did!
That was the best part.
After a while, Barbara got used to it.
More or less.
It ended up being just another unpleasant task which was required to get
the job done. Sort of like being asked to leave the meeting to bring the client
a cup of coffee - something that had occurred only much earlier in her career -
or being forced to spend yet another weekend in the office trying to salvage
yet another fuck-up perpetrated by one of her so-called "superiors".
And there were ways of dealing with it: always keeping a bottle of
mouthwash in her desk drawer so she could gargle away the repulsive taste and
smell of Baxter's cum; always being certain that she had a couple of extra
pairs of panties available; a bottle of aspirin for when the pain was too
great...
She never stopped being sickened and repulsed by the man and by what she
was being forced to undergo in order to get this promotion, but she endured.
Inevitably, however, her work began to suffer. This didn't bother her too
much, though. Her actions with Baxter were doing far more to secure the
promotion for her than any amount of good work. Besides, there were others to
do the grunt work. That stupid bitch Carol, for instance. She would be gone
from the company in a few months, but why not make use of her while she was
around?
In a couple of months, she would hold Baxter's position. Then things would
change...
To Baxter, the future didn't look quite so good. He would shortly be
retiring and, as if that wasn't bad enough, it had lately occurred to him that
he had not provided for his future as well as he might have done. He was only
now reviewing the numbers, and they added up to something less than a luxurious
retirement. This only fuelled his resentment against the company. Fuel that
eventually set aflame a spark of an idea.
What if...
*****
"But that's embezzlement!" The words and outraged tone sounded incongruous
coming from a half-naked woman who was stretched, legs spread wide, over the
front of a desk. From behind her, Baxter grunted in agreement as he pushed his
cock into her exposed pussy. Barbara bit her lip to keep from crying out in
pain; that first penetration of the day was always the worst. Gradually, she
felt herself loosening up as Baxter pistoned his cock back and forth. In and
out.
"Yeah," he agreed, still fucking her, "but who's going to know about it?
Between you and me, we control access to the accounts and receivables on the
computer invoicing system. We could divert hundreds of thousands of dollars
into our own accounts without anyone knowing about it, and then set it up to
look like a computer error."
Barbara, rocking with the force of his thrusts, followed his line of
reasoning. It seemed sound enough; with a little bit of work, the theft would
be untraceable.
"But what if..." She stopped speaking and let out a little wail of pain as
Baxter lurched forward with a particularly vigorous thrust. Instinctively, she
turned it into a groan of mock lust. She was getting quite good at faking lust.
"No 'what ifs'," Baxter answered through clenched teeth. He was very close
to coming now. "No one will find out. We'll split the money." With a loud
grunt, he jerked up against her, slamming her chest and face down onto the
desktop. Barbara's fists clenched tightly against the edge of the desk as she
felt his cock swell up and spit cum into her pussy.
She groaned.
Another pair of panties.
After his breathing calmed down a bit, Baxter pulled away and did up his
pants. "Well?" he asked, as Barbara slowly straightened up, wiping the thin
trail of cum off her thighs with the inside of her skirt. "Are you in?"
Barbara thought quickly. She had never before considered embezzling money
from the Company, but Baxter's analysis was accurate: between the two of them,
they could get the money out and set things up so no one would ever suspect
them. Really, it was too good an offer to pass up; it might even provide some
compensation for the humiliation and degradation she was suffering at the hands
of this asshole.
Maybe she could even find some way to pin it on him later.
"I'm in," she told him.
In the little alcove, Brad looked over at Rodney. "This is getting a
little serious," he said.
Rodney nodded in agreement, his face glum.
"What do you want to do?"
Brad shrugged. "I don't know," he answered.
But he did know. A slow smile lit up his face. "But I think that things
have gone far enough now that maybe we can help Carol keep her job here."
Rodney grunted and looked doubtful, but didn't contradict his friend.
*****
"Ohmigod... I don't believe this!"
Carol covered her mouth with her small hands, blushing a pretty shade of
red as she watched Barbara Dahlton take Baxter's cock in her hands and lather
her tongue all over the swollen cockhead. The licking and slurping sounds were
clearly audible through the microphones.
To say that this had all come as a surprise to her would be something of
an understatement. Earlier that day, Brad Tymmens had come to her with a stack
of computer printouts, a spreadsheet and an incredible story. An unbelievable
story. The printouts had been simple. They had demonstrated a course of
systematic tampering with the accounts receivable area of the firm's accounting
system. According to the modifications, a percentage of certain amounts would
never appear on the general accounts ledger, instead being rerouted to a
private account. The spreadsheets had demonstrated the reason behind the
modifications. For someone with Carol's education and intelligence, the story
had been plain: someone was defrauding the company of tens of thousands of
dollars. At least.
At first, Carol almost thought that Brad had been accusing her of the
embezzlement. Her position at the Company was very precarious; everyone knew
that she was to be "let go" after her one year contract was up, and apparently
Barbara Dahlton - that bitch! - had spread the word that she was not to receive
any assignments much more difficult than typing or filing. Carol had thus been
surprised when, over the last few weeks, Barbara had been sending her some more
challenging work, but she figured that Barbara was now so certain that Carol
had no future in the Company it no longer mattered whether she got the work.
That was why she found it difficult to believe when Brad told her that he was
attempting to help her; once Barbara got Baxter's position, Brad's own job
would be on the line.
Brad's story... well, that was something else altogether.
No matter how much Carol despised the older woman, she found it difficult
to believe that she would sink so low as to sleep with Robert Baxter to get the
promotion. No woman would do that. Even without the halitosis, Baxter was a
repulsive old man. Besides, Barbara didn't need to go to such lengths; she had
been up for that promotion for months. It was pretty much settled. Brad's story
didn't make any sense.
And that was why, when she finally did let Brad talk her into accompanying
him to the alcove outside Baxter's office, she had been so shocked to see
Barbara Dahlton kneel down before Baxter to gobble hungrily at the man's cock.
"Whore," Baxter growled, grabbing at Barbara's thick, brown hair.
"Cocksucker." Barbara moaned loudly and slid her lips down the length of her
superior's cock.
Carol could feel herself blush as she stared at the sexual activity taking
place in the next room. She was not a prude - nor was she totally inexperienced
sexually - but she still felt a little embarrassed watching something like
this. Particularly in the company of a man. Even more particularly in the
company of a man to whom she felt a strong attraction.
Like Brad Tymmens.
With his dark hair and grey eyes.
Embarrassment aside, however, she felt a strong sense of fascination at
the scene in front of her. Baxter was treating Barbara like dirt - like a lowly
slut - and she seemed to love it! Every time Baxter called her a 'bitch' or a
'slut', Barbara seemed to moan with excitement. It seemed to make her hot. BUT
CAROL KNEW IT WASN'T TRUE! Brad had told her everything, including how he and
Rodney and Phyllis had tricked Baxter and Barbara into believing that the other
one really enjoyed such behaviour. Baxter honestly believed that Barbara liked
being degraded and treated in such a manner, while Barbara understood that she
was to behave in a certain way if she wished to receive the promotion. In
reality, Barbara hated what was happening.
And that, Carol realized with a small shiver of excitement, was exactly
what fascinated her about the activity taking place in Baxter's office. Barbara
hated it, but was being forced to submit regardless.
Almost involuntarily, the small blonde woman reached down and began
rubbing her hand over her crotch.
"Bend over you bitch," he ordered. "Let's see some cunt."
Obediently, Barbara leaned forward over Baxter's desk, pulled up her skirt
- no panties - and reached back to spread her asscheeks. Her pussy was clearly
displayed.
Baxter reached down and began playing with it.
That was enough.
Brad had made his point. He turned to usher the younger girl out of the
room, certain that she had seen more than enough. Poor girl was probably so
embarrassed that...
He turned to speak, but quickly choked back the words. The "poor girl" was
slowly running her hands up and down the outside of her skirt at crotch level,
staring open-mouthed at the scene taking place in the adjoining office. Her
face was flushed, but not with embarrassment.
"Carol..."
Baxter teased and poked at Barbara's exposed pussy; he made a game of it,
running his talon-like fingers up and down the outside of the woman's cuntlips
for a few moments and then sliding them inside. Barbara twitched and moaned at
his attentions, but didn't protest.
"Like it," he asked, voice hoarse, "don't you bitch?"
"Ohhh... yessss...."
Carol had never felt anything like it. Quite aside from her hatred of the
older woman, the thought of another woman being forced to submit herself like
this when she didn't want to was... well, for lack of a better word, it was
delicious.
Delicious.
The small blonde woman felt herself going all warm and wet inside her own
crotch as she watched her tormentress submit to having her pussy played with by
the repulsive Baxter.
Carol had, quite simply, never felt such a rush of sexual pleasure.
"Carol..."
It was Brad. He could see her reaction to the events in the next room, but
she didn't care. It didn't matter. He was the one who had set this all up; he
was the one who had showed her this, and allowed her this chance for revenge.
Without hesitation, she threw her arms around his neck and brought her
lips up to his in a passionate kiss. He resisted for a moment - surprised - but
quickly gave way, melting into her embrace. Their tongue met and explored each
other in a frenzy of sudden passion.
As always, Barbara had to fight back the urge to gag when forced to kiss
the older man. As well as his breath, the feel of his cracked lips and slimy
tongue in her mouth made her sick to her stomach. She held back, though. Baxter
had set her up on his desk, and was now in the final stages of "foreplay".
"Wanna be fucked?" he growled.
"Yesss," she moaned in response, "Please fuck me."
It would be over soon...
"Fuck me Brad," Carol moaned.
She was sitting on the side of the small desk, legs spread and wrapped
around Brad's own legs. Her arms encircled his neck, pulling him forward into
her embrace. As they kissed, Brad had undone her top and unclipped her bra,
exposing her small breast to his touch. The nipples sat, rock hard on her chest
as he gently and then passionately ran his hands along them.
Carol reached down and undid her skirt. Brad stepped back, and she let it
slide to the floor, where it was quickly joined by her panties.
"Oh Brad," she whispered as he undid his own pants...
"Unhh..." Barbara grunted in pain and discomfort as Baxter drove his prick
into her pussy with one quick surge. She quickly turned it into a groan of
lust, and he didn't notice anything wrong. Almost immediately, he began pumping
his cock in and out of her unresisting pussy.
Barbara stifled a groan of pain.
Almost over...
Carol sighed with pleasure as Brad's penis slowly filled her pussy. The
steady rhythm of movement against her clit sent waves of warmth and pleasure
shooting up through her belly and into her breasts. Moaning, she once again
wrapped her legs around behind him and began moving in time with his gentle
thrusts...
The two couples came at the same time.
Carol and Brad picked up the rhythm and then pulled each other together
into a tight, sweaty embrace as they each orgasmed simultaneously. Baxter
stiffened and grunted as he dumped a load of sperm into Barbara's pussy.
Barbara moaned and bucked as he came, trying her best to give the impression
that she was coming. Baxter was fooled, but Carol, watching wide-eyed over
Brad's shoulder wasn't. That fact - Barbara's faked orgasm - allowed her to
come a second time, revelling in the humiliation of the woman who had been
tormenting her for so long.
And it gave her an idea.
And so, as she and Brad slowly disengaged; as Baxter pulled his cum-soaked
penis out of Barbara's sopping pussy and ordered the woman to clean it off with
her mouth, Carol smiled maliciously at Brad.
"That was great," she said, running her hand through her lover's
sweat-soaked hair, "but it's not enough."
"W-what do you mean?"
"All this." Carol gestured towards the adjoining office, where Barbara was
busily slurping away at Baxter's cock. "The humiliation... it's great. But it's
just the beginning."
"I don't understand." Brad was still in a bit of a daze from the sex.
"Don't you see," Carol asked. She pointed towards the pile of computer
printouts and spreadsheets. "We've got enough there to put both her and Baxter
away for some time." The blonde woman gave a smile that both frightened and
attracted him at the same time.
"She's our's," Carol laughed. "Barbara belongs to us now."
END PART TWO
=================================================================
As usual, all comments are appreciated.
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
=================================================================
As usual, all comments are appreciated.
REPOST: PARKER11.TXT -- M/F, NC -- 4/4
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.
=================================================================
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
your's."
"...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 would get
better...
THE END
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