CHAPTER ONE

 

Her endless legs disappeared under a short black dress which clung to a perfect figure. Clacking on high heels down her corridors of power, Lucy was the essence of unobtainable beauty and poise, until.....

"It - it's not what you think. Look, I'll put the money back," the words tumbled out of her dry, frightened mouth in an attempt to drown any opposition. "I don't know why I did it. I only borrowed it for a stupid dress, I'd have repaid it next week."

She really didn't know why she had been tempted to take some of the manager's expenses. It had been so ridiculously easy. Mr Hassay, Tora Pharmaceutical's manager, was on holiday for two weeks and she was running his office with her normal cool efficiency as his executive secretary.

He'd recently said he had no idea how much was in the float, maybe a couple of thousand? Leaving her the key he suggested she tidy up the accounting for him. Finding over ten thousand had been a genuine shock and she'd been tempted by an expensive dress, reduced in a sale ending today - her brain phased with shopaholic madness. Its price was dwarfed by the petty cash staring her in the face but, being an honest person, she would have repaid it on pay-day.

Knowing that many areas of the building were covered by discreet CCTV coverage, she should have guessed this included Mr Hassay's office during his absence. Indeed, focused by fear, she now recalled reading it in one of his boring personnel instructions.

The small, glinting eyes of Jung, from Tora security, widened with pleasure at making a 'catch.' Now self-preservation made her regret the sly contempt and disdain which she, in common with many other employees, always treated the pompous Oriental slug. At sixty he should in any case be retired, she thought. He'd already had one career in the police ... but it was company policy to employ such predatory creatures.

"I should call the state police immediately - turn you over," he announced ponderously.

Lucy knew her job and status would automatically be lost with a commensurate increase in shame. Everything should be ahead of her. At twenty three, with a high powered job built on qualifications, experience and trust, together with her beauty and infectious charm, she was the dream of many. However, she adored her loving husband, Jack - a surveyor, but now could she ever look him, or her family and friends in the eye again? She would be branded a criminal, maybe fined, or worse? There would be the shame of a menial job which is all someone with a record nowadays could expect.

"Alternatively, as you seem like a good kid, I could stick my neck out - try to work something out." Jung deliberated.

A ray of sunlight pierced the gloom enveloping her. Even being called a 'good kid' by the creature she normally treated with utter contempt had little impact on her. She had now entered an unknown sub-world. Instead of a free spirit controlling her own destiny she was now at the whim of another - unfortunately someone who deserved the loathing heaped upon him. From being an observer of an underworld which she occasionally sensed brushing against hers, she was now becoming a part of it. Nevertheless, she looked up into his piggy eyes with desperate hope.

"It won't be easy," he continued, "Everything is recorded on film, you see. It will be difficult ..." He fell silent, his ugly face creasing, seemingly in deep thought.

"Please, if you can - I'd be ..." she couldn't bring herself to say any more, weighing up what he might expect of her.

"Let me think. Meanwhile we must go through the motions, I must get a female to check your belongings," he declared officiously.

The ray of hope returned to Lucy's darkness. By summoning someone else he obviously had nothing too bad in mind. "Come to my office," he ordered, striding ahead.

Scurrying after him, she was no longer in charge, the manager's personification. Now the files she carried, symbols of the manager's authority and thus hers, were clutched to her chest as a shield against Jung's penetrating, gloating gaze.

"Wait here Lucy," he purred, locking her in his office. "I'll get someone to check you over, do this bit by the book. Then we'll decide what to do." He laughed, an unpleasant sound, as his fishy eyes washed over her trembling body.

Alone, her bravado ebbed and flowed, indignant at being locked in - treated like a criminal. She could brazen it out, accuse Jung of lying. Then she remembered her foolish actions had been recorded on camera. She was trapped in the creep's power. Various foolhardy schemes flashed through her mind before she accepted her predicament, wiping her brow.

She jumped up when he returned with an Oriental girl in her twenties. With the new 'Sunrise' industries really having a foothold (many would say stranglehold) in mid-21st century Britain, there were many Oriental Asians around, mainly from China, Korea and Japan, in positions of power. They even ran some privatised prisons - like one recently built near to her home. The girl's doll-like face and petite figure were offset by glittering black eyes which bored into her.

"Kaycan se, manao ohie sang."

"Yocatte la meno."

The two briefly conversed in the new common language, nicknamed 'Sunny,' which many Orientals had adopted to reflect their pooling of economic unity. Sunny's sing-song tones always caused a frisson of inexplicable annoyance to Lucy - and many other British nationals - but it was now often heard around Europe and America. Within a few generations, she suspected, everyone would be obliged to learn it. For the moment she found it incomprehensible mumbo jumbo which grated on the nerves. Yet another indication of how the Western world was slowly being taken over.

"This is Miss Tanga, a fellow security officer visiting on business," he reverted to English. "She will search you, please co-operate."

Jung only made a half-hearted attempt to pretend he was occupied on the other side of the door to his outer office whilst Miss Tanga had Lucy spread-eagled against a wall like a common criminal. The hands travelled horribly, intimately over every curve, smoothing her dress, patting and probing, intruding like two cold slugs. Lucy felt unclean when Jung announced that he would check her bag. She was defiled, imagining him exploring her personal items, organiser, diary, sundry 'women's' things.

"Take off shoes, stockings and dress, please," Miss Tanga smiled politely but coldly.

"Look, this is ridiculous it's a misunderstanding nothing else you don't need to ..." Lucy glared with anger and shame at the waiting girl. She looked at the half closed door, imagining Jung listening, maybe peeking.

"If there's a problem I get Mr Jung to call police, they deal, yes?" Tanga reached for a phone. "They search at police station."

"No!" Lucy tried to keep the desperation from her voice, grasping the slim hand. "OK, I'll do it," she caved in, shutting the door with her foot as she kicked off her high heels.

Perspiration trickled down her back. Tanga had again made her spread-eagle against the wall, now shamefully wearing just her tiny pink bra and pants, whilst she meticulously felt every discarded garment.

"Face me, please, mouth open wide." Lucy shivered as she complied, the girl peering and fingering inside her mouth, exploring under a tongue which she had to extend fully. Stupidly she hoped her breath was fresh.

"Hands out to side, legs apart." She jumped as the cool fingers patted around her bra, checking the edges, brushing her gooseflesh. Flushing deeper crimson, her fright-hardened nipples protruded through the material like two buttons. The hands briefly slid around the waistband of her panties, tracing between thighs which she longed to snap shut. Closing her eyes, she shuddered wretchedly as the fingers curled upwards, pressing the silk against the softness of her sex.

"Ok, all clear, you dress now," Tanga pronounced like a nurse, leaving Lucy to hastily regain a modicum of decency as she thankfully pulled on her clothes.

CHAPTER TWO

 

Lucy bit her lip, knowing she had to undress, knowing she had to carry out this ritual to avoid the creep, Jung, blowing her life away. He said it would be only once then he would probably consider her 'debt' wiped off. Could things ever return to normal? She wondered. He was now privy to, controlling, intimate acts of her life. Things normally kept to herself, or shared with a husband, a lover, were at the creep's discretion. Again she felt defiled, screaming at the bastard, using every vile word she knew to describe him, her voice bouncing mockingly back from her bedroom walls. If she resisted him what would then be left of her life? A criminal record, disgrace and a ruined marriage as a minimum. Maybe even a spell in one of the horrible State Correction Centres about which everyone had heard horrid rumours. However, talking too openly about such matters wasn't encouraged and in any case, most good middle class people secretly thought severe treatment was deserved by the criminal elements. She had never thought she could ever be one herself!

Resisting the urge to clutch it to her, she dropped the final wispy garment to a careless heap before the mocking empty face of her bedroom window. Jung had given explicit, obscene instructions as to the rituals she must perform, keeping the curtains open, hinting that he might be watching, checking, from a distance. He was maybe in Mote Park across the road? Shuddering, she resisted the urge to draw the curtains, instead turning full circle, a beautiful moth enticing any depraved eyes which might be regarding her from the murk outside. Storm clouds had introduced a premature darkness to the spring evening, accurately reflecting her own predicament, she thought wryly. Padding seductively up and down before the window she hoped Jack wouldn't be long bringing back the Korean take-away - then she could get this business over with.

This morning she thought she'd been so clever. When Jung insisted on her reporting sick from work and him visiting her she reckoned he had over-stretched himself. Her tiny video camera would record his blackmail and presumably his attempted seduction and she had warned her friends, Rowena and Ellen, to rush in from Rowena's house next door if she banged on the wall.

The cunning swine, maybe sensing a trap, had merely wandered round her home whilst she made him the drink he demanded. Then, whilst sipping coffee like old friends, he had given her his requirements. It was an anonymous typed list of crude, disgusting things she had to do that night with her husband, previously unthinkable things. She knew though that if she summoned Rowena he would deny the list was his.

He said he would know if she didn't perform to his specification. Her husband was due his bi-annual medical under her insurance scheme and the doctor, apparently a friend of Jung, would ask him under hypnosis about 'events' the previous night. For once she hated the all-embracing cradle-to-grave hold the Oriental companies had over their workers, sliding into utter dependency on them. One big happy family!

Perversely though, she wondered whether she was not experiencing a previously hidden and now unrestrained excitement at the things she must do. Following his directions she left notes around the house immediately her husband left. On his return, following them, he would find her sitting on the table in their bedroom, stark naked. Glancing once more at the list to remind herself what he required, she tightly gagged herself with a knotted tie. Mouth bulging around, it she slid up onto the table, the wood cold against her bare bottom. She bound her ankles akimbo to the top of each table leg, feeling opened and exposed, hanging a sign around her neck and also a rope leash. Finally, she secured her wrists behind her back with the cuffs he had bought, snapping them to with a click.

Having left the key to the cuffs on the bed as requested, she was now helpless, committed. Regarding herself in their mirror, looking like a whore, she saw above the velvet pout of her intimacies the sign she had written:

"I am your slave for the night. Keep me bound and gagged while you spank and cane me hard - then please fuck the arse off me."

 

***

 

"Come in, my dear," Jung purred, continuing to watch one of his flat monitoring screens hanging on the office wall. "Close the door."

Lucy, stomach knotted with fear and loathing, only pushed the door partially to. Although it was evening, some people were working overtime and she wanted plenty of witnesses if he tried anything else. If the bastard turned the screw any more that would be it, she'd - she'd ....

Her train of thought became instantly derailed by the images flicking across Jung's screen - her! She was naked but for the leash around her neck, her wrists cuffed behind her. Instinctively she shut the door fully. Resisting the urge to be sick, she watched her husband tie her leash to the wardrobe door, proceeding to spank her bottom whilst his huge erection brushed her thigh.

Unthinking she lurched at the computer-video, switching it off, heart hammering through her ribs, staring wildly, desperately at Jung.

"Oh there's plenty more isn't there, Lucy?" he simply turned it back on again. "You seemed to enjoy touching your toes for Jack's hand. Is your little botty sore this morning?" he laughed, patting her pert backside. "It's made for the rod."

"You..."

"And you fuck really well, don't you?" he interrupted casually as she hadn't spoken. "Plenty of things I hadn't specified too, eh?"

Lucy's overloaded brain took refuge in memory. She would never admit to anyone her deeply hidden excitement when Jack first saw her bound and exposed yesterday. It felt so ... different, wonderful, to be completely at the mercy of the man she loved. Her eyes had glared at him in sweet frustration when he kept her helpless whilst running his hands all over her exposed body, dipping into her liquid honey-pot which practically dripped onto the desk. When he later spanked her, the feelings of pleasure far exceeded the pain. Still bound, he made her rub herself all over his body like a dog on heat, his now bare thighs, clenched between hers, stimulating her swollen bud. Only when he was ready did he position her bent forwards over the table to take her from behind, eventually just a few long awaited rubs of his fingers against her clitoris making her come simultaneously with his own pumping climax. When he finally untied her she took him twice more that night, once astride and once undulating and wriggling full length to trap his tired penis within her.

Those images still flashed obscenely on his screen when, at the timid knock, a blonde secretary entered at Jung's growled command. Lucy tried to recall the teenager's name, wondering what the beautiful doe-eyed creature would make of her crimson face and the images on screen which she again managed to turn off. Did it matter now? She wondered, head throbbing, trying to think clearly.

"Jane, strip."

Lucy was momentarily confused by Jung's curt order. About to say something, her mouth merely gaped as, without dissent or query, ignoring her presence, the blonde immediately undressed. Then, following Jung's further commands, knelt on the floor at his feet. Her legs were wide to reveal a delicate mauve slash and her pointed breasts bounced softly when she had to clasp her hands to her neck; a delicate butterfly before a greasy toad.

"You see, there are several people in this company who are in my debt, company slaves, my slaves as it were. Open the cupboard, Lucy." Jung pointed to a corner.

Like an automation trying to assimilate data beyond its comprehension, whilst also trying to ignore the despair in the eyes of the pale-faced kneeling girl, Lucy obeyed.

A wave of heat hit her as she opened the door, revealing a nightmare. Within the confined space of the tall, thin metal cupboard, hanging by her wrists on tip-toe, was a rubber-clad figure whose only ventilation was a tiny grille set in the door at face level. The woman's shining face was dissected by a broad gag, her raven-black hair plastered to her head. She blinked, pathetically grateful for the relatively cool air of the office, every curve of her beautiful, straining figure from her neck down protruding explicitly through the thin skin-tight latex covering her.

Vaguely Lucy recognised her as an administrator, an elegant woman in her forties. Automatically she reached towards the wrists hand-cuffed to the top of the cabinet.

"Leave her, please," purred Jung, "Sally has another hour of overtime punishment to go yet. Several employees who have broken the company rules chose to accept my own brand of discipline as atonement - you're not alone." He smiled as Lucy's hands fell helplessly back to her sides.

"I enjoy watching and making you proud Western cows, who think they are so perfect, grovel to me as slaves. I took the liberty of planting a few micro cameras around your house whilst you made my drink the other day; you said some pretty horrible and disgusting things about me. It's a flaw in your character we must eradicate. And when we have, I will return the film of your theft, and your lustful night - as your souvenirs. I am always fair, your servitude will last a month. Then, if you are obedient and we have eradicated your rudeness, you will be in the clear. Jane and Sally can vouch for that, can't you, girls? You first both sought reassurance by speaking to other employees who had trod a similar path, didn't you?"

"Yes Sir," Jane whispered whilst the dark haired woman could only nod pitifully.

"You know there is no other realistic course other than accept your punishments, don't you?"

As the women affirmed the truth Lucy felt desolate, beaten. Jung's monstrous regime would account for the occasional employee who didn't outwardly share the common contempt for the fiend. Must she now join them?

"Over the months I've watched you on the screens doing your morning exercises in the office. I'd like you to do them here, now, just for me Lucy."

"Look, you creep..."

"Western woman must learn to control temper," Jung interrupted. "For that outburst, you'll take off your outer clothes and do the exercises wearing just the tiny bra and panties I watched you put on this morning in your bedroom." Lucy's hand flew to her mouth in shock. "If you refuse, we'll have to close the cupboard door on Sally and extend her punishment by another hour; I'll also cane Jane. It's your decision, your responsibility if they suffer in your place. Well?"

"You, you ..." she spluttered to a halt.

Controlling her natural instinct to slap the bastard, acknowledging the grateful looks of the two women, Lucy gave ground again to the hideous swine. Unbuttoning her blouse with suddenly clumsy fingers, she was unable to think of any realistic alternative. She couldn't bear the thought of the two creatures, who had been made Jung's virtual slaves, suffering anymore because of her pride. With as much dignity as she could muster she stepped out of her skirt and, folding it neatly over a chair, stood glaring at the casually seated figure, her fists clenched in frustrated anger. She longed to cover her virtually naked breasts but refused to give him that pleasure.

When the horribly familiar music started, it felt too unnatural to perform the exercises half naked and in the small office. Yet Jung snapped at her when he considered she was putting in insufficient effort. Normally employees exercised for 15 minutes together every morning wearing tracksuits emblazoned with the company logo. Now she wore just minuscule bra and pants as she bent and stretched, aware of the slit-eyes devouring her exposed flesh. It was worse for young Jane though, Jung decided she also should perform - naked.

Up down; twist, on tip-toe, touching their toes, swinging from side to side, Jung followed their every movement. When the programme was complete their bodies shone as they panted for breath. Jane's delicate breasts heaved as Jung ordered her to again kneel at his feet.

Now you'll remove your underwear, come here and suck my cock."

"No, you bastard, that's it! You rot in fucking hell!" Lucy snapped, clutching her discarded skirt and blouse to her. "I'll show the police your bugs in my house, they'll believe me and ..." she was halted by Jung's amused laugh.

"Oh my poor naive little Lucy. Don't you think I anticipated that and have already removed the bugs whilst you were at work this morning - it was so easy to make a copy of your house keys whist Miss Tanga searched you the other day. No proof at all now, I'm afraid. Naturally our friends here also have too much to lose to say anything. They'll confirm your confession to the theft, how you tried to bribe me with a film you took of your sexual antics. That film will reside in the office safe with the film of your original indiscretion. You've no choice but back me up, eh girls?"

Lucy saw the truth in their eyes.

"Also," he continued into the silence, "I have relatives in the local police and justice departments. Believe me, you will be prosecuted for theft, sacked and sent to prison if I suggest it to the right ears; imagine what the papers will make of your ... antics. Alternatively, play my little games for a short while and then resume your life. Think about it for a while, my dear. I accept that your new status has come rather suddenly for you." He chuckled as Lucy struggled back into her clothes with undignified hopping. "I'm busy tomorrow evening. However, you'll report to me the following evening at this time wearing no underclothes, knowing what to expect. If you don't, you can expect the police to call on you the following morning."

Lucy knew she couldn't even try to expose his blackmail. For the moment she just wanted to be out of Jung's terrible office - as far away from him as possible. Even before she had left, she saw young Jane crawl towards the seated figure, breasts trembling delicately, reaching for his trousers as ordered.

She knew the bastard would be able to convince people that she had agreed to this for her own kinky voyeuristic reasons, or bribery, to get the original film back. She could imagine the newspaper headlines, her whole life and reputation in ruins. Tears of self-pity rolled down her beautiful face as she desperately ran from the building