Enslaved

by Ray Gordon

  'You've a nice place,' Jonathan remarked. Marianne's stomach somersaulted as she took a deep breath and almost touched her toes, exhibiting her full womanly glory to the client's wide eyes. 'Very nice, indeed.'

  'Yes, we like it,' she replied, standing up and pouring the whisky. Smiling, she turned and passed him a drink.

  'Barry's a very lucky man,' he enthused, eyeing her shapely thighs.

  'It's not that nice!' she laughed. 'We'd like a bigger place really, but...'

  'No, I meant that Barry's a lucky man to have you.'

  Her arousal, and her annoyance with Barry, increasing, Marianne decided to play the game to the limit. Might as well go for it, she thought wickedly, sitting in the armchair with her legs parted, her naked pussy-crack smiling between her firm thighs.

  She didn't like Brooke-Smith - she sensed an air of haughtiness about him which she found belittling. Wearing a pinstriped suit, crisp white shirt and tie, he reminded her of an authoritative boss. But who was in control, who was the boss? As he gazed between her naked thighs, she realized the power she had over him. Whatever he was, he was a man, a man who appreciated the female form, she mused as she parted her legs a little further.

  'Sorry about that,' Barry apologized as he entered the room. Glancing at Marianne's blatantly exposed naked pussy, his mouth hanging open, he frowned. 'Er... how's the meal coming on? Do you... do you need a hand?' he asked hesitantly, making odd facial expressions that she took to mean that he wanted to speak to her in the kitchen.

  'I'll go and check,' she smiled, rising to her feet, deliberately leaving her dress hoisted up to reveal her beautiful pussy-crack.

  Taking the curry from the simmering oven, Marianne concealed a grin as Barry closed the kitchen door and breathed the magical word. She stood still, her expression blank as she awaited his instructions. 'Go and put your panties on,' he ordered her with a hint of anger in his voice. 'When I said give him the come-on, I didn't mean... Just go and put your panties on, you dozy bitch. Now, wake up.'

  Taking the plates from the shelf, Marianne asked Barry how long he thought Brooke-Smith would be staying. 'I don't want him here to the early hours,' she said. 'It's not easy being nice to someone you don't like.'

  'He won't stay too long, he's a busy day tomorrow,' Barry replied. 'Here, I'll do that - if you need to go upstairs?' he added, wondering why she hadn't immediately followed his instruction.

  Leaving the room, Marianne knew that she'd got one over Barry. Far from her being unable to go through with the plan, it was Barry who couldn't cope with it. Jealousy was his weak point, and she was determined to play on it, she decided as she entered the bedroom, lifting her dress and gazing at her proud vaginal lips reflected in the full-length mirror. 'No, no panties,' she affirmed wickedly. 'This is what he wanted me to do, and this is what I'm going to do.'

  Returning to the kitchen, Marianne bent over to take the naan bread from the oven, deliberately exposing her taut buttocks, her bloated vaginal lips to Barry's wide eyes. She could feel his seething anger, his rising jealousy, as she wantonly exposed the very centre of her femininity.

  'Juxtaposition!' he breathed through gritted teeth. Marianne stood up, her dress high over her rounded buttocks, revealing her dark dividing crease. 'Put your bloody panties on, woman!' Barry spat. 'I'll do the food - you go upstairs and put your panties on.'

  As he brought her out of her hypnotic trance, Marianne grinned inwardly. She was winning the game, beating him at his own game - and she was loving every minute of sweet revenge. 'Will you deal with the food?' she smiled amicably. 'I'm just going upstairs for a minute.'

  Entering the lounge, she smiled at Brooke-Smith. 'I hope you like curry?' she asked as she sat in the armchair.

  'Very much,' he replied, holding his empty glass up.

  'Here, let me get you another drink. So, what's this contract all about?' she asked, tossing her long golden locks over her shoulder and taking his glass.

  'An advertising campaign. We're launching a new product this autumn and... Well, to be honest, I really don't think your husband's company is up to the job.'

  Husband? Husband-to-be - not to be! 'Oh, why's that?' she asked nonchalantly.

  'They've made too many cock-ups in the past, I'm afraid. It's a competitive business - there are plenty of other companies out there only too willing to...'

  'Oh well, I'm sure Barry's not bothered one way or the other,' Marianne smiled, standing before him and passing him the glass.

  'But I thought he...'

  'Barry doesn't really care one way or the other,' she laughed wickedly, wondering why she was trying to ruin Barry's chances of getting the contract. Revenge was one thing, but to destroy Barry? 'To be honest, he's had enough of the job.'

  'Oh, I see. I hadn't actually decided to go elsewhere, it was just that...'

  'Don't worry about it, Jonathan. If you give the contract to Barry, fine - if you don't, it's not a problem.'

  'You're quite a woman, aren't you? I thought you'd be grovelling at my feet, playing the little hostess, doing your best to...'

  'No, no way! Look, why not decide what you're going to do about the contract? Get it over with now so that we can enjoy the evening.'

  'The contract's his! I was only bluffing when I...'

  'Yes, I know you were,' she grinned, parting her thighs again as she projected her hips forward, her tight dress hugging the contours of her mound. 'Don't tell Barry just yet - let him sweat for a while!'

  'But I thought he wasn't bothered?'

  'I was bluffing, too,' she replied, an impish glint in her sparkling eyes. 'I'll go and see how he's getting on.'

  Barry's forehead was lined, his face anguished as he turned to see Marianne in the kitchen doorway. 'Everything all right?' she asked.

  'No, not really. I don't like the way things are going,' he replied angrily.

  'What do you mean?'

  'I don't know. This bloody contract is...'

  'Where is the contract?'

  'I left it in the office. I should have brought it home but, in my panic I forgot.'

  'Why don't you go and get it? Surely it would be better to get him to sign it this evening, if he agrees, that is?'

  'What about the food?'

  'You'll only be half an hour. We don't have to eat yet. Stick it back in the oven - I'll entertain him while you're gone.'

  'Entertain him?' Barry echoed suspiciously.

  Jealous, Barry? 'Yes, entertain him - look after him. You go and get the contract, and I'll keep him happy.'

  'I don't like this, Marianne.'

  It's your own doing! 'Why ever not? What's the problem, Barry? You seem very worried, what's the matter?'

  'He's a randy old sod. I don't want to leave you alone with him.'

  'Don't you trust me? What do you think I'll do, flash my pussy at him?' After all, that is what you wanted me to do.

  'I... I don't know. Of course I trust you, it's just that... Juxtaposition.'

  Here we go again, Marianne thought excitedly, amazed by the unfathomable depths of Barry's jealousy.

  'You'll not go anywhere near him,' he ordered. 'Don't even show him a bit of leg, and don't let him touch you. And put your knickers on, you disobedient little bitch.' Whatever happened to the bit of cunt lip? she wondered sinfully.

  'OK,' Barry smiled as he brought Marianne round. 'I'll go and get the contract. I'll be as quick as I can.'

  'Right, I'll go and keep Brooke-Smith happy. I'll tell him that you've had to...'

  'Don't say anything about me, just chat to him. Oh, and try and get him to...'

  'I'll get him to give you the contract, Barry - don't worry. I know how to handle...'

  'Handle what? What are you up to?'

  'Nothing! I don't know what's bothering you, I really don't. Go and get the contract and I'll deal with Brooke-Smith.'

  Concealing a grin as Barry frowned and moved towards the door, Marianne was delighting in the game. His jealousy eating away inside him,
she knew that he was regretting ever using the word - regretting ever trying to use her.

  'Another drink?' Marianne asked Brooke-Smith as she entered the lounge. 'The food will be a little while yet.'

  'Thanks,' he smiled, eyeing her thighs again, wondering, no doubt, why she wasn't wearing panties. 'Where's Barry?'

  'Organizing things. He's good in the kitchen - shame he's not so good in the bedroom!' she laughed, stunning her guest - and herself.

  Jonathan shifted uneasily on the sofa, obviously wondering what sort of girl his hostess really was as she reclined in the armchair, blatantly exposing her pinken pussy-crack. Her stomach somersaulted and her heart fluttered as he focused his disbelieving eyes on her slit.

  'Are you married?' Marianne asked.

  'Yes,' he replied, his eyes widening as they feasted on her open girlhood.

  'We were going to get married, but... Well, there's no rush. Besides, I'm not sure that I really want to settle down just yet.'

  'Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were married?'

  'No, no.'

  'Do you work?' he asked, his gaze still glued to her creamy vaginal crack.

  'No, I'm not working at the moment - I was made redundant. I'm hoping to start a business from home.'

  'What sort of work did you do?'

  'Secretarial work for an export company.'

  'I'm looking for a new personal assistant, if you're interested?'

  'Really? Well, I suppose... Where are you based?'

  'Just outside town - Greenways Industrial Estate. You'd have a company car, of course.'

  'Er... I don't know what to say!' Marianne smiled, closing her legs and tugging her dress down to conceal her girl-crack. I shouldn't have come across as too tarty!

  'Say yes. What have you got to lose?'

  Marianne's opinion of Brooke-Smith was rapidly changing. Perhaps he's not the pompous git I thought he was, she mused as she rose to pour herself a vodka-and-lime. 'Sounds interesting,' she smiled, imagining roaming around his office - knickerless. 'The thing is...'

  'Is there a problem?' he interrupted, handing her his glass.

  If only he knew about the word! 'No, no, it's just that... As I said, I was hoping to start something from home.'

  'You could do that later - you're only young, you've all the time in the world.'

  'Yes, I suppose I have.'

  Passing him his drink, Marianne wondered at Barry's reaction to her working for Brooke-Smith. He'd be assured of future contracts, which was all he seemed to be interested in. Perhaps he'd react favourably? He'd probably delight in having her on the inside, gleaning inside information about his competitors.

  'What's this new product you're launching?' she asked. 'I really don't know anything about your company - Barry doesn't talk about his clients, you see.'

  'I'm in soft drinks. The television advertising campaign is to launch a new orange drink we've developed. We've called it Golden Pip.'

  'What's the salary?'

  'Negotiable. I'm sure we could come to an amicable agreement - if you know what I mean?'

  Marianne did know what he meant! So, it's my body he's after, she thought excitedly as she relaxed, allowing her thighs to fall apart again. 'I'll give it some thought,' she smiled as she heard the front door closing. 'I'll just see how Barry's getting on. I won't be a minute.'

  Frowning as she entered the kitchen, she asked Barry why he was back so soon.

  'The contract was in my bloody car!' he swore. 'I saw it on the passenger seat as I drove round the corner.'

  'You're getting worse! Anyway, I've secured the contract for you.'

  'What? But how...?'

  'I'll tell you later. It's about time you joined him, you've hardly spoken to him since he arrived. Get him to sign the contract, and I'll sort the food out.'

  'What did you do to make him...?'

  'I'm a woman, Barry - we women have our ways.'

  Marianne sat quietly during the meal. Barry did his boring arse-licking piece, sucking up to his client, which annoyed her but, exasperating though the evening was, she was thankful that Brooke-Smith didn't mention her working for him. That was a subject she wanted to broach when she was alone with Barry.

  After the meal the men retired to the lounge, leaving Marianne to clear away the dishes, and to think about the job offer. He's obviously attracted by my naked pussy, she mused as she loaded the dishwasher, praying that Barry would tell him about the word. God, I'm turning into a tart! What the hell? Money's money! And a car!

  Making the coffee, Marianne's thoughts turned to Jill, the wanton act of lesbian sex she had enjoyed with the girl. Recalling the vibrator, Jill's hot mouth engulfing her clitoris, her fingers massaging her inner vaginal flesh, her thoughts then lurched to Brooke-Smith. God, I flashed my pussy at him, she recalled excitedly, wondering again at the incredible change she'd gone through.

  'He's got to go, Marianne,' Barry said as he popped his head round the kitchen door. 'He had a phone call and...'

  'Okay, I'll come and see him out.'

  The pleasantries over Barry closed the door, frowning at Marianne as she gave a sigh of relief. 'Thank God that's over!' she gasped.

  'How on earth did you get him to agree to...?'

  'I'm not just a pretty face,' she laughed. A pretty pussy, too!

  'But how did you... I mean, he wasn't at all interested in our offer until...?'

  'I talked to him, said that your company was the best to handle his advertising campaign. And don't forget, I'm an attractive woman!'

  'You didn't do anything else, did you?'

  'Anything else? What do you mean?'

  'Nothing. I'm just a little surprised, that's all.'

  'You don't seem to trust me any more, Barry. What's happened?'

  'Nothing.'

  'You've been nervy all evening.'

  'I'm just tired, that's all. I like the dress, by the way. It's a bit short, but I like it.'

  'Oh, guess what, I've been going around without my panties! God knows how I forgot to put them on. I hope he didn't see anything!'

  Barry cringed as Marianne lifted the front of her dress, displaying her sparse blonde pubes, her swollen pussy lips and very wet crack. 'Come to think of it,' she smiled innocently. 'I had my panties on before Jill came round, and I don't remember taking them off so...'

  'How long was the lesbian here?' he asked suspiciously.

  'Not long. It's funny, I felt very wet between my legs after she'd gone. Perhaps my being away from you for a week has left me sex-starved.'

  'You told Jill about the course, didn't you?'

  'Yes. What's that got to do with it?'

  'Nothing. I'm going up to bed. Have you told anyone else about the... the course?'

  'No, only Jill. Oh, and John knows, of course!'

  Chapter Three

  Barry had left for work by the time Marianne woke up. Her hands running over her naked body, her gentle curves, her feminine crevices, she didn't want to reach out from beneath the warmth of her quilt and answer the phone, but the caller was annoyingly persistent.

  'Hallo,' she sighed dreamily as she brushed her hair from her face and pressed the receiver to her ear.

  'Marianne, it's John.'

  'Oh hi, John. Barry's already left, I'm afraid.'

  'Yes, he called me just now. He hasn't said anything to you about me, has he?'

  'What do you mean, said anything?'

  'He rang me and asked if I'd been to see you.'

  'I'm sorry, John, I've only just woken up - I'm not with you.'

  'Barry asked me whether I'd been to see you or not. I just wondered why he'd asked.'

  'I've no idea. Are you sure you didn't misunderstand him?'

  'Yes, quite sure. I just thought it rather odd.'

  'It is odd. Perhaps he thinks we're having an affair!' God, I shouldn't have said that!

  'No, of course he doesn't!'

  'You hadn't arranged to come over, had you?'

  'No, no,
I'd arranged nothing with him. Are you in this morning?'

  'Er... Yes, I suppose I am - why?'

  'I thought I'd come round for coffee, if that's OK?'

  For sex, more like! 'All right, John. You'll have to give me time to get up though - I'm still in bed. Was there something in particular you wanted to see me about?'

  'No, I've a free morning so... I'll see you soon. Barry asked me to come and see you.'

  'Why?'

  'I'll tell you about it later.'

  'OK, John, bye.' Marianne lay back on the pillow, grinning as she imagined Barry ringing John in his jealous desperation and tentatively questioning him, anxiously probing. Poor Barry, she mused. He displays my pussy to John, asks me to flash a bit of cunt lip to his client, and then not only gets cold feet - but regrets the whole thing! But why ask John to call round?

  As she climbed out of her bed and slipped her gown on, Marianne decided not to dress. Might as well be prepared, she thought wickedly, allowing her gown to fall open, revealing her pert breasts, her erect nipples. Descending the stairs, wondering whether Jill would call round for coffee, for sex, she pondered again on the incredible change she'd been through.

  From a secure and comfortable relationship with Barry, to opening her thighs and allowing Jill to bring her to orgasm with the vibrator - having John screw her, use and abuse her... And all within a couple of days! 'I'm enjoying this!' she giggled in her new-found sexual deviance, her gown flowing behind her as she breezed into the kitchen, her blatant nakedness arousing her.

  Sitting at the kitchen table gazing out of the window, Marianne felt sure that she'd caught a glimpse of someone skulking in the bushes at the end of the garden. Turning her head to one side, she noticed Barry from the corner of her eye. 'What the hell's he doing hiding out there? He's supposed to be at work.' The stark realization suddenly hit her - he was spying on her!

  As the doorbell rang, she was in two minds about letting John in. Barry was obviously going to wait until John was screwing her, and then burst in and... And what? If John uses the word and takes advantage of me, then that's Barry's fault. But why did he ask John to come round knowing full well what would happen?