tagNonConsent/ReluctanceControlling Sarah Ch. 01-11

Controlling Sarah Ch. 01-11

byJohnTagliaferro©

Notes from the authors:

Sarah and Suki had the generalities of this story about two years before it was written. I read some erotic fiction somewhere of a secretary hypnotizing her boss into being more successful and promiscuous. The objective of the secretary controlling her boss was an influence on the Nancy character I invented for this. There was a "Nancy" villain in the original Suki Adult Romance series that shares some of the qualities of this one, but they are not the same characters

This story was a true team effort. Aubrey Jones, one of my Twitter followers, stepped in to provide proofreading and editing assistance for the final edits. She chose not to submit comments for this section.

This, and all of my fiction, is just that, fiction. None of these characters are based on anybody living or dead. None of the events are real. I do not advocate any illegal activity and nobody should emulate these characters.

- John Tagliaferro

The series of chats and emails dumped into John's inbox must have been a bear to go through. It was just as fun helping turn it into a story as it was chatting the original in AIM and seeing them put together in a story. This veers away from the original a lot and the reader should be thankful for that ;)

- Sarah

I love the way this project was organized. We all wrote different characters, characters far away from our nature, which was a challenge and a thrill and John pulled it all together. I was the character developer for his other two series. I guess Sarah and I were for this too. We supplied descriptions for 'Sarah', 'Nancy', 'Joe' and 'Edward'. Much of their dialogue survived the revisions. In the original chat, we were 'ourselves' online, in fantasy chat. Another person in the chat became 'Edward'. Could be fun if readers try to guess which character we wrote!

- Suki

1. The Cuts Will Begin Immediately

Most who worked in the corporate offices of SJE Enterprises knew the Senior Manager of Finance, Sarah J. Kneeler as a cool, young, calm, and intelligent manager. Her clear, fair skin and happy manner gave the impression that she was much younger than her peers, a frequent false assumption. The diplomas and awards on the walls of her office had the dates visible for anybody could do the math and 'discover' that Sarah was at least forty. Watching her pace across the small stage before delivering her instructions was a shock, even to those who knew her as an analyst. She never had to deliver such sweeping bad news before; the old management had vice presidents and above carry the news. Under the new regime, each tier of the hierarchy delivered the news to the level below, en masse. 'I should have worn a different suit. Black is so authoritarian and this belt looks like a five buckle waist cincher. This news is bad enough, I shouldn't be dressed so domineering,' Sarah thought in circles as the last of her group entered. She motioned to the ones in the back to close the doors, took a deep breath, and approached the podium. The calming effect of her slow exhale was erased by the sharp report of her spike heels, which did not help calm her audience either.

"Group, we have some serious cuts coming and, as your manager and friend, am making every effort to alleviate the pain, especially to provide 'top cover' from the executives." She took another breath and a drink of water. For some reason, even her hair "hurt" pulled back tight into a bun. "Make no mistake, these initial cuts are only the beginning. We have the most efficient group in the corporation. However, corporate has made it clear than no group will go without cuts and that includes us. It begins with the administrative assistants. All of you assigned admins will counsel them today, their two-week layoff notices will be issued no later than next Friday. Review their evaluations and do whatever you can to help them find new homes. Managers, you only have a few days to learn what they were taking care of and all of those duties will be yours once they leave. Budget your time wisely!"

Sarah continued through the details. 'At least I do not have to lay off analysts . . . yet,' she thought with measured relief as she neared the end. Sarah never minded speaking in front of groups, especially her team. That day, stepping off the podium was the biggest relief of her life. She walked smartly down the center aisle and choked back the urge to cry as two smiling interns opened the double doors for her. 'Do they always schedule my group meetings on the opposite end of the floor from my office just to ogle me?' Sarah thought as she strode by the "cube farm." Even those who would rather look away could not help notice how her tailored black suit framed her broad shoulders and narrow waist. The 5" heel of her pumps only added to the effect.

Sarah gently closed her door, walked straight to her desk, and pulled a few tissues from the drawer just in time to catch the tears from the short cry she allowed herself. "At least I never wanted an assistant of my own. I don't have a right arm to fire."

As she touched-up her light makeup, a message came across from the Director of Finance. Sarah was to make a home for one of the executive secretaries who needed to be retained. "Damn it! I don't want a secretary! If I were an executive, maybe, just maybe, I would need one, but I sure as hell don't need one as a senior manager!" Sarah grumbled to herself as she typed a polite response, respectfully declining the additional help.

The DF replied immediately and Sarah was stunned. "Of all the secretaries in the world, I get Clarke against my will? I would rather do without junior managers than have that disruptive fool in my office! How she has remained here is beyond me. She is the gruffest, loudest, rudest . . . " Sarah's thoughts aloud were interrupted by a knock on her door. "Yes, come in."

"Misses Kneeler, I'm just stopping by to let you know I am ready to start whenever you like. When may I move into my new office?"

'The the executive secretaries not assigned to an executive were supposed to be laid off too. This must be the result of some senior management deal and everybody else knew about it before me, no discussion. Let Sarah take her, she never complains . . .' she thought, then replied to Nancy, "Whenever the move team says that your workstation is ready, Miss Clarke."

"Misses Kneeler, I go by Misses Clarke, never Miss and tech already has the workstation setup. The move team is ready whenever you say." Her smug tone turned to one of greater insolence as she noticed the single strand of antique pearls on Mrs. Kneeler's neck. Nancy, a product of working class Scotch-Irish stock from the American "rust belt," was sensitive to shows of class differences.

Sarah tried to keep her groan at Nancy's insubordinate attitude to herself and then struck upon an idea. If she was stuck with Nancy, she needed to correct, or at least neutralize her disruptive manner and she needed a location advantage to lay down the law in the first discussion. "Nancy, how about having dinner tonight with my husband and I? If you do not have other plans, of course. Your spouse can join us," She hesitantly chose the neutral, not truly knowing if Misses Clarke was married to a man or a woman. "We would love to have you both."

"Such a gracious boss! Of course, Joe and I would love to be your guests. What time do you have in mind Misses Kneeler?"

"Oh, just take care of your move and come over any time. Here is the address. I will call Ed to have dinner ready by seven. I should be there by then. The boys can chat and watch the game after dinner while we share a drink or two and go over the particulars on how I like my office to run."

"Very well Misses Kneeler. I used to manage the move team. They can take care of things. I have a few errands to take care of, along with anything you need, of course."

"Nothing for me. See you tonight."

Before Nancy closed the door, she was yelling profanities at the move team, along with anybody else who happened by. Her grating voice only added to the irritation. Sarah always thought Nancy sounded like a frog with gravel in its throat and a bad smoking habit. This was the first time she experienced the full volume. She wrote a note to herself to bring up the profanity and manner after dinner. She also noted to herself not to mention spotting Nancy in the occasional kink or swinger's clubs and thanked God Nancy had never spotted her in one.

2. Mister Kneeler, House Husband

"Ed, my new secretary and her husband are joining us for dinner. Have a ham and trimmings ready by seven, do everything up nice and the outfit on your schedule for today will be fine."

"Yes, Ma'am. Will you be arriving with them?"

"I don't know, Pet. They may arrive before me so be a darling and entertain them in that situation." Sarah hung up the phone without listening for a reply.

Edward was the bright, very young engineer at another firm when they met right after Sarah earned her PhD. He was neat, even in his own home, polite, proper, and brilliant. Sarah was a single mother and saw Ed as a potential energetic life partner, as well as father figure and mentor to her daughter, Suzanne. Those ideas fell apart when the extent of his submissiveness emerged. She could not stand having a submissive lover, at least one who was more submissive than her. Over the years, it consumed him and completely changed their relationship. Instead of husband and stepfather, he slowly became chauffer/butler/babysitter and tutor, until Suzanne went off to school and Sarah's unwanted advantage grew greater. He still attended to all the household duties with an almost psychic ability to anticipate what Sarah wanted. Besides household chores, he facilitated Sarah's 'social' schedule and cleaned up after. At least, that is how Sarah remembered things.

Just after four o'clock, as he was putting everything into the ovens to cook, Ed heard the doorbell. "Who can that be? We are not expecting any deliveries." He checked the monitor to see a small framed woman with a great "tight" figure. She turned to face the camera and the impression changed dramatically. Her wrinkled face suggested that she was perhaps fifty or sixty. The effect on her neck-length hair was dramatic; from the back her hair appeared platinum blonde, but combined with her face, it was most definitely white. She wore a tight golden satin blouse, tight black skirt, sheer black stockings, and tall black pumps. Everything was simple, from the gold ankle chain to the gold chain necklace, watch, and bracelet. Ed opted to answer through the intercom, "May I help you miss?"

"Mister Kneeler? I'm Misses Clarke, your wife's new secretary."

Greeting one of her guests through the intercom sent Ed into a panic. He almost dropped the pan of potatoes before slamming them into the oven and punching the cook program. He ran through the house to the front door. "Misses Clarke, I must apologize, I was not expecting anybody for a few hours."

Nancy was surprised with the frail, sniveling brown-haired creature not much taller than herself that greeted her, holding an apron, wearing a custom-tailored teal button-down, khakis, and loafers. Even his watch was of a feminine preppy style. She was expecting Mister Kneeler to be something more like an executive or entrepreneur who just enjoyed the kitchen, maybe even worked from home, but still big and powerful, like her husband Joe. She did not even have to think about how to work this into her plan, it fit all too well.

"Thank you for the apology. When a woman says 'any time' to come by her house, I take her at her word. Show me around."

"Yes, yes of course Misses Clarke," Ed said as he watched Nancy strut through the foyer, pull out a cigarette and drop her purse on the lamp table. "Misses Clarke, we don't . . . Um, we do not smoke in the house . . ."

"Light me," she said with her gruff voice in full growl, and turned her head barely enough to see him from the corner of her eye. The timid Edward obeyed, took the glittery butane lighter from her hand, and nervously flicked it three times before getting a flame. 'More good signs,' she thought. 'Doesn't take much to control this one.' As soon as Nancy pulled a puff, she walked toward the stairs as Ed stared, hypnotized at her strut. The skirt must not be as cheap as it looked at first glance, it was tailored perfectly for her excellent ass. "Come, boy, what are you waiting for?"

"Yes, of course Misses Clarke. I just need to find an ashtray or plate . . ."

"Nonsense, your hands will do, if you are quick," she said as she flicked an ash onto the white carpet.

"Misses Clarke!"

"Hurry, before I do it again," she growled.

Ed hurried to catch up with Nancy and escorted her up the stairs, holding his hands out whenever Nancy was ready to deposit another ash. If the Woman of the House saw that ash, he would be in for a severe punishment. She was not the worst of Sarah's guests, it had just been a while since one of them arrived with such an attitude. "This is her office. It is always locked unless she is using it."

"Unlock it."

"Misses Clarke, I am sorry, but even I do not have a key to that room. The rest of the home, yes, but not to there."

"Very well. What is that room across the hall?"

"The guest room."

"Really now. Does she have many guests overnight? Over the weekend?"

"Oh yes, quite often . . . " his voice trailed off as if he had already fallen for a trick. The look of shame on his face betrayed him even more.

"Show me."

He escorted her across the hall to the guest room, catching her ashes along the way. She was impressed at his ability to catch the ashes even when she tried to catch him off guard. Apparently, Sarah had trained him better than any houseboy submissive Nancy had encountered. She did not merely look at the room; it was more like an inspection. Simply furnished, a wedding picture of him and Sarah next to one of the daughter on the nightstand, neatly made bed, men's clothes, of his size and style, neatly hung in the closet. "You are the guest in this house, little Eddie, aren't you. Do you take me for some fool? I really do not like being taken for a fool. Misses Kneeler and I have been at the same firm for years and run in some of the same circles. Don't you think I know what she really is by now?"

"I am sorry, Misses Clarke," he stammered, "she never mentioned you before. I was only told to make dinner and entertain you and your husband until she arrives."

She approached him confidently, cigarette butt extended in her hand. "Get rid of this and show me where the guests stay with her for real. I was picked to be her executive secretary for a reason and you are going to start cooperating. Oh, yes, you are already entertaining me. Let's see if it can become enjoyable instead of a chore?"

Edward took the cigarette and flushed it down the toilet in his room. 'His' small bathroom had nothing but a toilet and sink, no shower or tub. Everything was sparkling clean and neat, the way he kept the entire house. After washing his hands, he escorted Nancy down the hall towards the door at the end. He fumbled with a set of keys to unlock it. "Congratulations on your new position with Sarah, Misses Clarke, I did not know that she had been promoted to executive. Sorry for being so in the dark about things . . ."

"She is not an executive, yet, she should have been years ago. She will be soon and you will help me. Understand? You can stop with any deception. How did you expect to explain having to unlock the master bedroom and convince anybody that you are nothing more than her cuckold?"

"I . . . I don't know. I never had to explain it before."

"So, everybody you have given the tour to knows now?"

"No, I mean I have never done this before. The Woman of the House does that and she never shows the upstairs if it is a visit from coworkers, or just dinner."

"From now on, whenever she tells you that others will be in the house, you get the doors unlocked and look like you are her man, unless instructed otherwise. Understand?"

"Yes Misses Clarke," he said as he unlocked the door. In a striking difference from the contemporary decor of the rest of the house, the bedroom theme was vibrant and classic. The wall-coverings of the giant bedroom were of fine red cloth with a gold foliage pattern. Polished hardwood floors and a higher ceiling than the rest of the rooms on the floor gave a slight echo to Nancy's shoes. In the center, a giant canopy bed, much larger than king-size, with heavy wooden posts sat atop a beautiful Persian rug. Large plush pillows, silk sheets, velvet blankets. An ornate, heavy cherry dresser opposite the bed, large wardrobe, nightstands with polished brass hardware. Assorted chairs, all very well made. Even the simple, armless straight back chair was sturdy, with heavy dowels forming the back. Of the many bedrooms she had seen, this was one of the most beautiful. It took her a while before noticing the additional functionality of the furniture. Every corner of the bed, dresser, and nightstands, had a strong, recessed brass ring with a brass backing attached. The bolts went all the way through to the other side of the post, or rail, with a nut securing it through another brass plate. Other anchors were spaced evenly in-between. This setup could hold anything short of a massive wild beast.

"Beautiful room. Show me the rest."

Ed turned to show Suzanne's room and Nancy barked, "The rest of this room."

"But Miss, the rest of her room is private . . ."

"Show me."

Edward opened the ornate wooden doors on the far side of the room. Doors he had not touched in years. They opened to a 'closet' as big as a regular bedroom. Rack upon rack of business wear that Nancy had remembered seeing Sarah wear at SJE, some she had never seen, along with rows and rows of beautiful shoes and boots, a few with 3" heels, the rest progressively taller. In the back, there were other things. Costumes, toys, playthings, and fetishwear. She walked to the back, reached out, examined, and fondled the 'play' sets. She sniffed one of the gas masks, and a few other items. "Eddie, some of these things, like the gas masks, look more like your size than hers. Are they for you?"

Ed stuttered answering the question, "No, I have never worn any of these things."

"Eddie, who wears them?"

"Misses Clarke, I really do not know. When she is with others, they spend their time privately. I rarely get to see."

"Eddie, when was the last time you were allowed to play?"

"Um, Misses Clarke, I really do not know if I would be allowed to answer that, even if I could remember and I truly cannot remember."

"Eddie, when was the last time you got off? The last time you ejaculated?"

"That was this morning, Ma'am."

Nancy noticed his transition into calling her 'Ma'am', another good sign; he was surrendering control to her.

"Do you need permission from Misses Kneeler for that?"

"Yes, Ma'am. In this case, it was pre-approved permission. The Woman of the House was happy with the outfit I picked for her and the way she looked after I dressed her and did her makeup. If she says she is happy with her outfit I have permission," he said with a satisfied smile. He did not even notice that he was obeying her as if she was introduced to him as someone to obey.

"Who picks your clothes?"

"The Woman of the House, Ma'am. They are on my schedule. She gives me changes when her plans change."

"How often is she pleased with what you pick for her?"

"Most always, Ma'am."

"Good, something useful for me too. Now, show me the other bedroom."

On command, he escorted Nancy to Suzanne's room. "Are those pictures of your daughter and wife?" Nancy asked, looking at the 'wall of Suzanne', multiple electronic picture frames showing mother and daughter at every sort of activity with accompanying medals, ribbons, and certificates. Ed was missing from them.

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