tagNonConsent/ReluctanceBecoming LeAnn Ch. 01

Becoming LeAnn Ch. 01

byStephenWolfe60©

It was 5:25pm, and LeAnn's nerves were on edge as was usual at this time of day. Looking down at the huge pile of papers on her desk, she sighed and resigned herself to the fact that she would be working late again. She picked up the phone to give her husband the daily courtesy call; he would expect it, she would expect him to be home to answer at three in the afternoon after doing nothing all day.

She dialed, greeted, rhetorically asked Tim about his day, reminded him to get dinner for the kids and make sure they started their homework, cheerily replied with the routine "Love you too, bye!" and turned back to working through the pile of orders and invoices.

She was glad that at least this afternoon she wouldn't have to deal with the added tension of her bosses' intimidating presence. Brock would be out of town until late tomorrow, and LeAnn breathed a little sigh of relief that she would get the office to herself for the rest of the day.

Even so, as she settled into the tasks at hand, her thoughts returned to her boss and the plethora of mixed feelings she had about him.

She had realized some time ago it was probably a basic personality conflict that got them off on the wrong foot.

Brock Magnusson was an aggressive, imposing personality; LeAnn was a fragile, nervous housewife newly returned to the work world. It hadn't helped things that Brock had replaced Richard, the man she had come to think of as the best boss she could have ever had.

Six months after Richard had hired her for this job, he got a job higher up the company ladder and moved to another town. It had been an unexpected blow that left her stunned and disoriented.

She was still in that state a week later when Brock Magnusson took the office by storm. That first meeting had been intense and traumatic for LeAnn. When he walked into the office and she stood to greet him and shake his hand, she felt an immediate sense of intimidation.

Her tiny hand was completely engulfed in his, and she began to shake, loathing herself for her lack of control over her body. LeAnn suddenly felt like a little lamb in the grasp of a large predator. At six and a half feet and well over 200 pounds, the sheer size of the man alone would have made him imposing, but his presence was larger even than his physical size.

Standing to meet him, LeAnn had found herself staring directly into the lower part of his wide chest where the bottom of his tie and the 'V' of his coat lapels came together. Even his suit was intimidating; she knew from the cut and the Italian cloth it had to have been custom tailored.

Her eyes first went to the cuff of his starched shirt and his hand as it enveloped hers, and then slowly moved up the fine silk tie to one of the most brutish faces she had ever been this close to.

Blonde hair closely cropped, the wide lips and overhanging brows of his darkly tanned face looked as though they had been chiseled out of a rock. His eyes were the color of blue steel and glinted sharply as they inspected her face with a probing critical gaze, which she met briefly but could not hold. She felt like a fawn being circled by a large predatory beast. LeAnn knew instinctually that if she met that gaze she could be torn apart.

Her eyes fell to his shoes, which seemed like a pair of black Porsche's made of glossy Italian leather.

LeAnn was immediately seized with an almost uncontrollable urge to pee.

She remembered being intimidated by everything about him, his clothes and his immense size. She remembered vividly simpering in front of him like a miniature poodle before a Bull Mastiff. She had caught herself unconsciously rubbing her thighs together as if to satisfy some imperceptible itch.

He made quite an indelible impression; there was no getting away from it.

He had an intensely macho aroma, a combination of cologne and strong tobacco, and a generally earthy male scent. LeAnn, being very sensitive to odors, was engulfed and overcome with nausea.

LeAnn was completely swept up in a maelstrom of confusing and conflicted thoughts and feelings, with every second that passed a little more control over her own body drained away as she cowered in front of him. She felt like a fool as she nervously stuttered the words, "Welcome to C-Congolomora, I ..um, Welcome to c-Concordian Conglomerated!".

Brock had grunted a dismissive 'thanks' as he eyed her incredulously.

As she sat working through the stack of papers tonight, LeAnn thought back to how she struggled through the initial contact, how she had fumbled over nervously as he motioned her to stand before his new desk and seated himself and got straight to business in a very confrontational manner. She had been on the verge of doing the pee-pee dance, but didn't want to upset him by excusing herself to the restroom.

To keep from wringing her hands together, LeAnn had put them behind her back. She'd had to force herself again to stop rubbing her thighs against one another. It was at that point she noticed that her panties were quite damp. She had almost swooned from panic, barely able to contain the urge to look down at her crotch for a wet spot.

Brock wasted no time and had proceeded immediately to line her out on all his expectations of her. "I am not happy with the kind of profits this location has historically generated; this office has been lagging since it got off the ground and I am here to make changes."

Brock continued callously, "I know you've been at this position for over six months, but I feel it's fair to let you know that you can consider yourself on probation for a month, after which I will give you a thorough evaluation and determine your future here. "

LeAnn was a girl of extremely pale complexion, and she felt as though any vestige of color in her creamy white skin drained completely away in that instant.

He then continued with a list of his demands, from punctuality and promptness to his own take on the company dress code.

She felt his eyes scan her from head to toe as he continued, "I want the image of this office to be upscale, I've already got an interior decorator coming in this week and we will be doing a complete remodel of this office. I also want a complete remodel of your office appearance, no more of this slouchy 'Liz Lemon' stuff." LeAnn took offense immediately, given that she was often compared to Tina Fey.

Brock went on to explain that he wanted conservative office attire, dresses, skirts and crisp blouses, feminine power suits. He demanded unquestionable femininity but didn't want anything risqué. Brock had used the words "I want you sharp and nicely fitted, nothing slutty, I don't find that attractive". The comment hit her like a slap in the face and sent another shockwave right through poor LeAnn, who would never even think of even showing any cleavage. Her mouth fell open and she started to come back with a slightly huffy protest, but he brushed over her words while waving the back of his hand dismissively. She barely got out a little scoffing sound as he went on with his monologue.

Brock's insulting comment aside, LeAnn had been very happy to have been done with pantyhose a long time ago and was pretty frosted at the idea of returning to them again. She had begun to protest, but her nerves got the better of her and she decided to just go along with it. Whatever she did or didn't know about Brock Magnusson at that point, she was sure she didn't want to upset him. Tears of anger and frustration had rimmed her eyes, but she successfully fought them back.

She did manage to voice her protest in one respect; she gathered herself and meekly raised her small hand " Excuse me Mr. Magnusson, but I can't afford to buy a whole new wardrobe right now, I've been wearing slacks to work for some time and don't have many dresses."

Magnusson changed tone and became instantly conciliatory; "I apologize, I am really not the kind of boss who makes unrealistic demands without making sure my people have the resources to follow through and accomplish my objectives." He reached under his lapel and came out with a wallet of fine leather. Flipping it open revealed a money clip which appeared loaded with large denomination bills. He quickly peeled off ten very crisp hundreds and handed them to LeAnn without even flinching.

Her first response was mild protest, but he waived that with a small frown and a head shake. "Take it LeAnn; a grand should get you a couple of weeks of work wear. You've got until next Monday to get out of the slacks."

LeAnn felt a twinge of foreboding as her thin fingers closed around the stack of bills, but she put it down in her mind as a professional move on her part and a tax write off on his.

She had adjusted and updated her wardrobe over the following weekend. Mortified at the thought of exposing her bare white legs, yet loathing pantyhose, LeAnn opted for thigh high stockings. She had only worn them previously for the occasional date night with Tim because he used to get so turned on seeing her in them, but that now seemed like a long time ago. She wondered briefly if seeing her in stockings and a garter belt could make even Tim's dysfunctional wee-wee erect these days, but she quickly turned her mind from that subject before the familiar resentment set in.

True to his word, Brock had the office facelift planned and done in two weeks' time, and LeAnn was impressed and pleased with the result. Headquarters must have given him the entire budget he had asked for on the remodel. The dingy old office had been transformed into a modern art gallery. Brock had done away with the bleak white walls and gone with a dark, warm color scheme, rich woods, glass and dark leather furniture. The fluorescent's had been replaced with tasteful down lighting and pendant lamps and there was now a black leather couch in the waiting area across from her desk.

LeAnn's new desk arrangement was beautiful, streamlined and modern, but was not completely to her liking. She had built her former workstation into a veritable fortress, closed on all sides floor to desktop with a counter wall at the front that had served as a barricade between her and the onslaught of intruders coming through the front door. The effect had been to reduce her presence to a face floating above a box.

Brock had not asked her opinion or given her any choice in the remodel. She now sat behind a thick mahogany table top on stout legs with only her monitor and keyboard to shield her from the front door. Her files and baskets were behind her under a nicely matched back table. There was now no modesty panel shielding her legs, no stacks of file cabinets at the sides. She had to constantly remind herself to sit "ladylike" now that she wore skirts.

In truth, the opportunity to update her wardrobe was exciting to LeAnn, even if she could barely admit it to herself. As sole breadwinner, she hadn't really shopped for clothes for herself in quite some time. The kids were always a priority when it came to the clothing budget, and for several years she made do with what she had.

LeAnn found she actually grew to like skirts and stockings; they definitely had their pros and cons. The extra ventilation "down there" was actually far more comfortable than slacks, and trips to the bathroom were pretty quick and convenient, but she was annoyed that she had to shave more regularly. One real downside for LeAnn was that she had noticed male customers paying her a lot more attention, and it made her extremely uncomfortable.

The salesmen, reps, delivery drivers and mostly male customers who came through the office had always stared at her breasts, and she was very conscious of it.

LeAnn was not voluptuous, but one area of her looks she felt pretty confident about were her 34C's. She was fairly slender and elegantly built with nice, firm breasts, and she knew that men stared at her, but it didn't make her feel attractive, just uncomfortable. She hadn't really felt like a hot property for years, since before the babies, and she was intensely insecure when she noticed men checking her out.

LeAnn had been comfortable camouflaging herself in her somewhat frumpy work clothes. She felt exposed now, the heat coloring her cheeks every time she crossed the room, knowing men were eyeing her legs as well as her breasts.

LeAnn had long ago resolved in her mind that most men were just sex obsessed pigs and she accepted it as a fact of life in an office girls daily routine. Most men at least made an effort to be decent about it.

One exception was the regular delivery driver, Kurt Wagner. He was a long, lanky rawboned man with wide shoulders and over-sized hands. He was coarse, vulgar and loud, yet something about him appealed to the small-town girl in LeAnn. Maybe it was a shared sense of simple roots, maybe it was his cocky sense of humor that softened her to him, but they did connect on some level and she got along with him despite his sometimes inappropriate comments.

LeAnn had actually considered Kurt a friend and used to be glad to see him when he came by, but she had made the mistake of giving him a friendly hug. Kurt then came to expect hugs every time he arrived, and LeAnn didn't have the assertiveness to refuse. He had begun to hold on a little longer and squeeze her a little tighter than LeAnn thought was appropriate, and his hands would often roam outside the bounds of decency, down her rump and at the sides of her breasts.

The more inappropriate touching Kurt got away with, the bolder he got. He began to press his groin against LeAnn's frontal area during hugs, and she could feel his obscenely swollen manhood through his pants. The poor shocked girl had never imagined a man's equipment being so big before. After she got over the initial shock, she would always awkwardly break off the contact and push away, always with a nervous laugh and a school marmish "Okay now Kurt, I'm a married woman!"

She now tried to stay out of hug range when he was around, but he would often catch her off guard and find some way to give her a clandestine little squeeze with his big paws. That had gone out of control too, and he had grown comfortable pinching her butt or giving it a little squeeze whenever he thought he could get away with it.

LeAnn was always too intimidated to make waves by confronting him, and she would certainly never tell Mr. Magnusson.

Kurt stopped in the office to turn in paperwork a few times per week, every time he picked up or dropped off at the warehouse. He had been loudly complimentary from the first time he'd laid eyes on LeAnn, and made no bones about how her flushed red face made him feel when he caused it. "Aw, don't be embarrassed baby!" he would crow, "LeAnn, a pretty girl like you with a body like that, you got nothing to be embarrassed about honey!"

LeAnn always kept her head down and answered tersely, but with a nervous little smile. "Oh now stop it Kurt, you know I'm married!" He would brush aside her protests and tell her how great she looked in whatever she was wearing that day, usually with more detail than she was comfortable with.

Kurt would often throw in "I hope that husband of yours appreciates what he's got!"

She was always embarrassed by this and had to bite her tongue, as it always confronted her with the truth that her husband did not appreciate her, compliment her, or make her feel in any way desirable.

She had been harboring a growing resentment against her husband since he wasn't looking for a job "below his standards" and she felt like he was taking her for granted, leaving her to work here with these men at a job she didn't really like.

She knew that her face probably betrayed her feelings towards her husband however she might try to hide it. Inwardly, she enjoyed the compliments; they were the only ones she got these days, but she felt a moral obligation to discourage Kurt and maintain a line of decency that was not crossed, at least in her own mind.

Things had rapidly grown more and more uncomfortable with Mr. Magnusson since he had arrived that first day, but at least he was out of the office most days on sales trips and meetings in the city.

Their office was in a suburb a little off the beaten path, and LeAnn wondered why the company had placed a go getter like Brock way out here. He didn't seem pleased with it and it seemed to LeAnn like some kind of corrective action on the part of the company. Brock didn't seem to like the office or the town, and LeAnn got a strong feeling he didn't like her much either. She always walked on eggshells around him. It caused her great stress, but was only a small aspect of her discomfort.

The other thing was that Brock's language was pretty coarse. He talked openly about sex and brought the subject up often. As the first few weeks went by and he got more comfortable around LeAnn, he grew more brazen. He had no filter for his cell phone conversations and she couldn't avoid over-hearing Brock chatting up his latest dating interests. She would also have to try to avoid listening to him catching his buddies up on his latest sexual exploits. Her sense of decency was assaulted daily, but her self-esteem issues being what they were, LeAnn was far from assertive and found it impossible to stand up for herself.

She tried to raise her voice; she already had the words on the tip of her tongue: "Mr. Magnusson, I am very uncomfortable hearing you talk about things of a sexual nature and I consider this to be sexual harassment!", but she always fell just short of saying it. Instead, she would pretend to ignore, protest mildly and meekly scold, "Now Mr. Magnusson!" after which she would smile nervously as her cheeks burned with shame.

She would glance up briefly to see him grinning smugly at the sight of her reddened cheeks. She felt like a gimpy pushover, forced to listen and laugh nervously along. It made her feel completely powerless, and she could feel the dominating power it gave him over her. She always felt like he was watching her, staring at her body.

Kurt, the trucker, was in regular contact with all the company stations, so he and Magnusson had been working together for years at Brock's former office. The two of them were old buddies. They had the same crass sense of humor and when he was around Brock, Kurt would fall quickly in to the same pattern of abusive language, coarse jokes and sexual banter. LeAnn would over hear them laughing and joking, then suddenly the level of speech would come down to low tones and whispers punctuated by coarse laughter.

That always made it impossible for her not to eavesdrop.

She overheard enough to understand they were talking about women, their latest dates and the things they did to them. Although he had thankfully never gone into much detail, LeAnn was aware that Kurt was a hopeless man-whore who dated girls he hooked up with online and had brief flings with some of the office girls. She became rapidly aware that this was a lifestyle the two men shared.

On the days when Kurt was in the office hanging out with Brock, the atmosphere of the office was so charged with male hormones that LeAnn swore she now knew what testosterone smelled like. She overheard bits and pieces of what they talked about and at times she sensed that they might be talking about her.

When she got this feeling she would often make out certain words and phrases filtering through the closed door. Sometimes she swore she could hear Brock or Kurt say her name, but she couldn't be sure. She had clearly deciphered the words "tight-assed", "prim and proper" and "She just needs a big hard cock ".

LeAnn felt she absolutely couldn't tell Tim about any of this, and that of course made her feel unfaithful, and the guilt hung over her like a cloud. The thing she would not admit to herself was that the sexual banter also served as a constant reminder of the thing had been sorely missing from her life for some time now. She felt frustrated, pathetic and lost.

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byStephenWolfe60© 3 comments/ 30883 views/ 12 favorites

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