Desperate Measures: The Flufferbysoflabbwlvr©
Author's note: Desperate Measures is an anthology consisting of stories related by theme, rather than by character, chronology, or storyline. Accordingly, they can be read in any order, as each installment is a stand-alone entry.
Elizabeth Simmons was on the verge of surrendering to despair when The Entertainment and Technology Group, Inc., offered her a job. The offer was for much less than she was seeking, but–due to her complete lack of a previous employment history–she had no choice but to accept the offer. Her husband, Mitchell, was not happy when Elizabeth first started looking for work, but he held his tongue when she landed an interview. He even offered tepid encouragement when she was called in for a second meeting. Encouragement turned to bitterness, however, when she was offered the job.
"Look, honey, I'm only taking this job until you get back on your feet," she said as she pulled on her stockings. "You'll find something soon. I know you will. You're a good man."
"What they're going to pay you is hardly worth your time," Mitchell replied. "You would be more productive helping me around the house."
"Mitchell, we've gone over this already. There's no point in both of us being home all day. One of us has to start working before your unemployment benefits run out."
"I agree. I should be the one out there looking for work."
"You've been looking for over a year and you haven't found anything. Your benefits are about to run out, and we need some money coming into this house. We have bills to pay–or did you forget?"
"So this is all my fault?"
"I didn't say that. It's not anyone's fault. It just is what it is. We need money, and I can help. Now please, let me finish getting dressed. I don't want to be late on my first day."
Mitchell put on his robe and left the bedroom. After pouring himself a cup of coffee, he assumed his usual position in front of the computer. He did not even wait for Elizabeth to leave the house before he pulled up his favorite porn sites.
"I'm leaving now, wish me luck," Elizabeth called as she opened the door to the garage.
"What time can I expect you home?"
"I don't know, it's my first day. I'm supposed to get off at five, but I was told I will have to stay late on occasion. I want to make a good impression, so I'll probably stay at least until six. See you tonight."
Elizabeth fought back tears as she backed out of the driveway. The last two years had taken a heavy toll on her marriage. Has it only been two years? God, it seems like a lifetime ago since we were happy.
It was a twenty minute drive into the city. Elizabeth drove through the quiet suburban streets, doing her best to avoid school buses and school zones. Her two children were in high school, but they did not ride a school bus. Instead, they drove together in her son's used Honda Civic. How much longer can we keep all three cars? Two of them are paid off, but the insurance!
Elizabeth never used to worry about finances. Her husband was a good provider, and they resisted the temptation to live beyond their means. They lived in a modest house in a nice suburb, drove practical cars, took reasonable vacations, and overall lived a lifestyle that appeared frugal when compared to the lavish excesses some of their friends enjoyed.
When Mitchell's salary was "temporarily" reduced by twenty percent, the family was able to tighten their belts and get by on less. For six months they skipped their annual vacation, stopped eating in restaurants, rented videos instead of going to the movies, and otherwise managed to live in nearly the same manner as they had for the previous ten years. But after six months Mitchell was converted from salary to hourly employment, and his hours were cut in half. At that point the family began to experience substantial changes in their lifestyle.
Mitchell suffered through a mild depression when his salary was cut, but he tried very hard to hold it all inside and present a steady face to his family. Only Elizabeth saw the tension that marked Mitchell's face when he let down the facade in the privacy of their bedroom. Their sex life started to suffer during that period, as well. Their love-making became less tender. Mitchell became less concerned about pleasing Elizabeth, and after a while her responses became mechanical.
It came as no surprise to Elizabeth that her home life deteriorated further when Mitchell was converted from a salaried position to hourly employment. He left home every morning in a foul mood, and returned every evening in a worse disposition. Everyone noticed, but no one could speak to Mitchell about it. Elizabeth tried, but Mitchell internalized all his frustration. By that time sex had become a burden for Elizabeth. After all, sex was free, and it served as Mitchell's only outlet for his frustrations. Their weekly encounter was always the same: ten minutes of hurried, doggy-style sex, then he pulled out, grabbed Elizabeth by her hair, and shot his load in her face. After Mitchell rolled off and went to sleep, Elizabeth reached under the pillow for her mini-vibrator so that she could finish herself off in silence.
Mitchell's company folded six months later. Within days, Elizabeth's life became a living hell. Unemployment benefits and savings kept the family afloat, but week after week of searching for a job and finding nothing left Mitchell feeling completely morose. The family hit rock bottom. Everyone walked around the house on pins and needles. The kids spent as little time there as possible, and Elizabeth jumped at any opportunity to get out of the house for any reason–real or contrived. Mitchell spent most of his time on the couch watching television, or locked in the office in front of the computer. Sex became an individual event. Mitchell shuttered himself in the office and jacked off daily, while Elizabeth resorted to extended time in the shower to take care of her needs. He has the entire house to himself now. He'll probably pull his dick off by the time I get home.
Elizabeth pulled into the visitor's parking lot twenty minutes early and exited her vehicle. She entered the front door of the office building and stopped at the receptionist's desk.
"Good morning, I'm Elizabeth Simmons. I'm starting here today."
"Hello, Miss Simmons," the perky young blonde answered. "I have a message that you are to go up and see Mrs. Walker. She's Mr. Callahan's secretary. Do you know where that is?"
"Yes. Take this elevator, and when you get off, go to your left. It's the last door. Just go in, she's waiting for you."
Damn, I wanted to be waiting at my desk before anyone else showed up. I guess they get started early around here.
Elizabeth followed the receptionist's directions to the twelfth floor. She paused outside Mrs. Walker's office and knocked.
Elizabeth twisted the door handle and entered. She was greeted by an attractive woman with blonde hair and a stunning figure. She appeared to be in her early thirties.
"I'm Colleen Walker," the woman said, extending a hand. "You must be Miss Simmons."
"Mrs. Simmons, actually. You can call me Elizabeth–or Liz–whichever you prefer."
"Why thank you, Liz. You can call me Colleen."
"Pleased to meet you, Colleen."
"Mr. Callahan won't be here for another hour. He had to stop at one of the other offices on his way in this morning. I'm supposed to show you around and get you set up. Would you like some coffee before we get started? You're going to need to know where the coffee machine is located, anyway. Mr. Callahan takes his black, by the way."
"Show me the way."
"Have you ever been a personal assistant before?"
"I've never worked before. This is my first job since I was a waitress in college."
"Oh my. That must have been..."
"A long time ago. Almost twenty years, actually."
"You're joking. I thought you must be younger than me."
"You can't be. You look incredible."
"Why thank you, Colleen. I'm flattered. The last two years have been very stressful for me, and I have put on some weight. I think I look much older than my age."
"Oh stop it, Liz. You're gorgeous. You're going to fit in very well around here. I can tell."
Over the next hour Colleen showed Liz around the office and helped set up her desk. An IT tech came by and showed her how to use the computer and the telephone system. He also activated a cell phone and gave her a security badge. By the time the tech was finished, Colleen was calling to request Liz's presence in Mr. Callahan's office.
Elizabeth touched up her make-up, smoothed her dress, and walked to the office at the end of the hall. She paused outside the door, reached for the handle, then stopped to knock before entering. Hearing no response, she knocked a second time, then poked her head through the door.
"Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Callahan. Did you want to see me?"
"Come in, Liz. Close the door and have a seat."
Elizabeth entered the spacious office and closed the door behind her. As she walked across the black granite floor toward Mr. Callahan's desk, her eyes were drawn to the various photos, plaques and paintings that decorated the walls: a photo of Mr. Callahan shaking hands with the governor; a photo of Mr. Callahan standing on a dock next to an enormous blue marlin; an award from the police department for sponsoring a youth basketball league; a framed, autographed football jersey; a painting of a pride of lions on a moonlit savannah, to name a few. The decor reflected power and success.
"First of all, Liz, welcome aboard. We are very happy that you joined our family."
"Thank you, sir. I'm happy to be here."
"Has Colleen shown you around the office?"
"Good. Let me tell you a little bit more about your responsibilities. As I explained to you in your second interview, the title "personal assistant" is really a catch-all for a number of jobs that need to be performed around here. It is better for me to have one person doing several unrelated jobs on a full-time basis, rather than hiring several part-time employees to do the same work.
"Your first and primary responsibility will be to handle my appointments. Colleen will help you, at first, but it will be your job to control my calendar. I will tell you who I need to see and where we should meet, and you are responsible to make sure it happens. If I have to go out of town, then you will make all the travel arrangements. If someone is coming here, you make sure that person gets here, on time. Any questions?"
"No, sir. None so far."
"Good. Your second responsibility is to help Colleen with any typing or document production that needs to be done. That is Colleen's primary responsibility, but if she gets backed up or is out sick, then you are to step in and help out. Everything we do here is time-sensitive. If something does not go out on time, then both Colleen and you will be held responsible. Do you understand what I am saying?"
"Yes, sir, of course. You are telling me that if Colleen can't do her job, then I have to make sure it gets done."
"Exactly. 'That's not my job' is not an excuse around here."
"The third thing you will do is help out wherever you are needed. In a sense, you are more or less a 'floater,' so it would be a good idea for you to become familiar with the general workings of every department in the company. I am not expecting you to do anything that requires training or education beyond your qualifications, but I will expect you to fill in for anyone whose job you can do. Temps are expensive, so I don't use them unless it is absolutely necessary.
"You will also be the office runner. If a package needs to be picked up or dropped off and it cannot be shipped overnight, then it is up to you to get it delivered on time. If I need my dry cleaning picked up, or a gift purchased for a client or colleague, that falls to you, also. Colleen will remind me of things like anniversaries and birthdays, but the shopping will usually fall to you. A company credit card will be issued to you for the purpose of making any required purchases. Occasionally, I will also tell you to take your family or just your husband to dinner. When I do, you can use the card for those expenses, as well. That's one of the perks I told you about in the interview. Any questions yet?"
"No, sir, we covered most of this already."
"Yes we did. Here is one more thing that we did not cover. You will also be responsible for distributing the paychecks. On Thursday afternoon you will receive a package with the paychecks for every division and subsidiary. You will sort the checks and deliver them to the appropriate department heads on Friday morning, so that everyone gets paid before lunchtime."
"That doesn't sound too difficult."
"It's not difficult, but it is important. People get real upset when they don't get their money on time. Any other questions?"
"No, I think I'm ready to get started."
"Did IT set up your computer?"
"Did you get a cell phone?"
"Yes, and it is already activated."
"Keep that phone turned on and accessible at all times. I don't care if you keep your old phone or ditch it, but I must be able to reach you on the company cell phone 24/7. You should have unlimited everything, so it is up to you whether you maintain the expense of a personal phone."
"Excellent. Go see Colleen, and she will show you how everything works around here. I hope you are with us for a very long time, Liz."
"Thank you, sir. I hope to be here for the duration."
"Close the door behind you, and don't be afraid to stop in and see me if you should have any questions at any time. You and Colleen will always have complete access to me and my office, unless the 'Do not disturb' message is activated on your computer."
"I'll keep that in mind, sir."
Elizabeth closed the door as she left the office. She took a deep breath and set out in search of Colleen.
The rest of the day was spent becoming familiar with the equipment, the procedures, the staff, and the layout of the building. Most of the employees left a few minutes after five, but Colleen was still at her desk at five forty-five, so Elizabeth also stayed. Colleen finally shut down her computer a little after six. Elizabeth waited fifteen more minutes before she closed up her desk and left for the night.
The drive home took longer than expected. Elizabeth pulled into the driveway around seven thirty, hoping to find dinner on the table when she walked in the door. Instead, she found a sink full of dirty dishes, the kids watching television, and Mitchell locked in the office.
"Baby, I'm home," she said as she knocked on the office door. "Do you want to hear about my day?"
"Get a glass and come on in," Mitchell answered through the door. "I'm having my dinner in here."
Elizabeth retrieved a tall glass from the kitchen and returned to the office. She tried to turn the handle, but the door was still locked.
"What are you waiting for?" Mitchell called. "Come on in."
"The door's locked."
"The door is locked. Open the door."
"It's locked? Just a second."
Elizabeth waited a few seconds, then turned the handle again. It was still locked.
"Mitchell, open the door. It's locked."
"Ok. Just a minute."
Elizabeth heard some shuffling inside the office. She turned the handle again, and the door opened. She found Mitchell sitting in his bathrobe with a glass of wine in one hand, and his flaccid dick in the other. An empty bottle of wine was on the desk, and a porn video was playing on the computer. She stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind her.
"What is this? What are you doing?"
"I'm getting ready to have a romantic evening with you, baby. I've been waiting all day for you to come home."
There were crumpled tissues all over the floor. On the screen, a plump, middle-aged brunette was on her knees, surrounded by three men who were taking turns fucking her face.
"Is this what you've been doing all day while I was working?"
"Suck my dick, baby," Mitchell turned his chair toward Elizabeth. "I'm having a hard time cumming."
"I'm not going to suck your dick. I've been working all day. I don't need to come home to this...this crap."
"You think you've had a bad day? I've been home alone the whole fucking day. It's my turn for a little attention. My turn. Now be a good little wife, get down on your knees and suck my dick."
"You're a fucking idiot. You can't even have dinner ready for me when I get home. I'm going out to get myself something to eat. Clean up your mess before I get back."
Mitchell sprang out of his chair and grabbed Elizabeth before she could turn the door handle. He twisted her wrist behind her back, forcing her to the floor.
"You seem to have forgotten who is the man of this house. Just because you found yourself a job and are gone all day doesn't mean that you wear the pants now. You are going to obey me, understand? Now, open your mouth, suck my fucking cock, and make sure you swallow all the cum."
Elizabeth collapsed on the floor. She looked up as Mitchell pushed his chair back and spread his legs to make room for her under the desk. His hair was uncombed. He had not shaved or showered. His eyes were bloodshot. For the first time all day, she felt weariness overcome her excitement.
"I'm doing it for us," she whispered, "for our family."
"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that you could talk with a dick in your mouth. Did they teach you that at work today? Wait–what am I thinking? My dick's not in your mouth, is it? It's time for more cock sucking and less blabbering, understand?"
A single tear rolled down Elizabeth's cheek as she reached for his dick. She lowered her face to Mitchell's crotch and closed her lips around his shriveled cock. How many times has he already cum today? Can he even get hard again?
Pushing the events of the last ten minutes to the back of her mind, Elizabeth licked the underside of Mitchell's cock, then swirled her tongue around the head. His flesh tasted of dried cum and stale piss. Despite her ministrations, his cock remained soft.
"Shut the fuck up!"
Mitchell put his hands on the back of Elizabeth's head and pushed her face against his crotch. He closed his thighs, applying pressure to the sides of her head. Elizabeth realized there was no chance of reasoning with him. He would hold her all night if she didn't make him cum somehow.
Elizabeth sucked on his cock for several minutes. Mitchell parted his thighs and relaxed his grip, allowing her more freedom of movement. She cupped his balls in her hands and bobbed her face up and down on his lap. She could hear the sound of the woman in the video reaching one orgasm after another as the three guys took turns pounding her womanly body. She blocked the sounds out of her mind and concentrated on resuscitating Mitchell's abused manhood. After fifteen minutes of concerted effort, she felt his staff stiffening.
"That's it, baby, now you're finally getting somewhere," Mitchell taunted. "I always said that you could suck the cum out of a mannequin. Make me cum, baby, make me cum."
The last thing that Elizabeth wanted to do was to give Mitchell pleasure. But she knew her ordeal would not end until she drained his balls one more time, so she applied every trick and tactic that she knew to the task of making him cum as soon as possible.
"Suck it, you fat whore, suck that cock!"
Elizabeth did not know if Mitchell was talking to her or the woman in the video–they were both around the same size. She had never thought of herself as fat, but she did put on some weight over the past two years. Mitchell used to compliment her figure, as his tastes ran toward women with a few extra pounds properly distributed. That much was evident from his choices in pornography. But in the last six months his comments toward her had become more derisive, as her wardrobe began to fit her tighter.