Karen Coerced Ch. 01byjohnnytee©
[Thanks to the wonderful and gracious sensualsharon for breathing life into my story. All flaws are entirely mine.]
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They say that desperate times call for desperate measures. Well boy have I got a new perspective on that now. My name is Karen Fisher. I'm 32 years old. I'm a married mom and recently the sole breadwinner in our home. My husband was made redundant a while back, so that put a lot of extra pressure on me. I won't bore you with our financial woes.
I always suspected my boss, Jeremy Roth, fancies me. He's such a slimy sleazy bastard, nothing would really surprise me about him. He's not very tall, a stocky balding man with glasses. He possesses a powerful looking build, due to being overweight. Not quite every ladies dream. He's not my direct boss, but he is a superior.
He's always treated me fairly decently, so I put up with some lingering glances and leers from him at work sometimes, not a big deal. Then things started to change.
It all began around the time he walked in when I was having a heated discussion with my husband, Steven, on the phone. I don't know for sure but I think he may have been listening in to our calls for a while. I'm pretty sure he monitored my emails as well. The twisted little fuck. Then he got something on me, something he could use. Something that gave him power over me.
He found out that I'd had an affair years ago. My ex had been in touch with me through a legal agency, trying to acquire visitation rights for our child. A child that my husband believes is his. I was fighting it, and foolishly was dealing with my solicitor through my work email. I was trying to keep my dirty laundry away from home. Little did I know there'd be a rat in the office.
So one particular evening, while I was on the phone to my husband, he came up behind me and started touching my breasts. He reached around me and squeezed them, caressing softly, casually. I was so shocked, I felt sickened. But I was too thrown off kilter to stop him. I quickly finished the phone conversation and turned to him. "Mr. Roth, what do you think you're doing?" I hissed angrily.
He dropped his hands, and smiled eerily. A lecherous smile that sickened me to the pit of my stomach.
"Mrs. Fisher, I'm so sorry to have startled you." He sounded sincere. "But I needed some way to, how shall I put it, broach the subject. I know about you Karen."
My heart thumped and I felt rising dread.
"Yes Karen, all about your love-child. Your legal issues and your financial troubles. All in all, quite a little mess. It seems that Steven is in the dark regarding all of this," he added dryly. He paused looking at me.
I looked back, my mouth agape.
"Don't worry about a thing Karen. He won't hear a word about it from me."
For a fleeting moment I felt relief.
"So long as you, how shall I put it, play ball." His little speech was delivered in a matter of fact tone.
"Yuh, yuh, you're blackmailing me?" I stuttered in utter disbelief. "What do you want?" I was reeling.
"I know it's a lot to take in Karen. You have the evening to think it over. If you're in agreement, then come to work tomorrow in a smart sexy dress, or skirt and blouse. No more trousers. You'll wear shiny silky underwear, or none at all. Oh, and I like stockings and heels. Slips are very much appreciated also."
Before I had a chance to respond with an enraged "Go fuck yourself, Roth!" he turned on his heels and walked back into his office. Anyone watching the exchange from afar would've thought it a normal conversation.
The evening at home was horrible. I felt physically unwell. I said very little to Steven, and went to bed early. I just felt so trapped. Maybe I couldn't think logically. I had no idea how to continue. I felt lost and alone, and totally unable to come to any decision. I had restless sleep, and was still nowhere nearer a decision by the morning.
Fear of disclosure, in the end, was the greatest driving force. So I bit the bullet. I decided to play his game. At least until I came up with another more well thought out plan. I'd play by his rules, with my own take on some of them.
So I got dressed. I wore the most prudish dress you've ever seen. It covered everything, a calf-length dress, almost to the ankle, with a high neckline and sleeves to my wrists. It looked antique, like something dear old aunt Beatrice might have worn to a religious ceremony.
I suspected he might find the ensemble more than a little repulsive. Somewhat encouraged by my ingenuity, I smirked to myself thinking that I might yet manage to contain the situation.
As he passed by my desk in the morning, he barely glanced at me.
"Good morning, Karen." The faintest hint of a smile tugged the corners of his mouth.
"Good morning, Mr. Roth" I replied.
And that was all. I was left to wonder. Wonder what he was thinking, what his next move might be. And wonder I did, for the whole day. Just before clocking off time, he emerged from the office.
"Karen, can you come in here for a moment?"
I stood nervously and walked into his office, closing the door behind me. I moved towards a chair but he quickly intercepted me.
"You may remain standing, Karen." His eyes sparkled.
I wondered what the fuck to expect.
He walked around me, sizing me up, his eyes roaming all over me.
"You think you're pretty clever don’t you?" he asked softly.
"Not at all sir." I replied with mock surprise.
He walked up very close behind me. My heart began thumping hard. I felt tendrils of revulsion blossoming everywhere inside me, sweeping into every part of my body. I felt entirely constricted, sensing him so near me.
"Maybe you're not as clever as you think." He whispered in my ear. I felt his breath, so hot, so close. The breeze tickled my earlobe and I just about resisted the urge to pull away. It made my arms prickle with goosebumps, the fine hairs standing. A sickening shiver ran down my spine.
The next thing I felt was the hem of my dress brushing against the font of my calves. He was lifting the back up, exposing my legs.
And then I felt his hand planted firmly between my legs, groping me, rubbing me. It moved right in from behind, curving up around my mound. I tried to show no reaction whatsoever. His touch made my flesh craw. I felt nothing but pure hatred for him. I became a cold statue. He was undeterred. He continued with his thorough groping, massaging me deeply. I wanted to shout, to scream, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"I love your dress Karen," he spoke softly, sounding sincere. I heard him unzipping himself. Oh god.
"I have a, how shall I put it, a fetish, for prudish women." I felt him press his hard cock against my ass, rubbing himself against my white nylon panties. His groping hand moved around the outside of my thigh, near my hip and latched itself onto my mound again. He began massaging my clit through the fabric of my panties. He moved his cock between my legs, rubbing the helmet of his cock against the smooth flesh of my inner thigh, then along the crotch my panties.
"I want to turn them all into sluts for my use," he was breathless now. I felt his cock so hard and hot against me. I felt queasy, nauseous. Try as I might to be a statue, I too was becoming a little breathless.
"I want to make them discharge in their panties," he said, as he stroked the bare flesh of his cock against my pantied crotch. I could tell he was getting worked up into a frenzy. I felt his hand bumping against the flesh of my inner thighs as he masturbated. I wondered when he was going to penetrate me. I just knew it was coming.
He massaged my clit, and stroked himself against me. His cock made rustling noises against my panties. I remained a prudish virtuous statue, dignity my only salvation. But I knew I was getting wet. Despite my repulsion for this poor excuse of a man, he was arousing me. He was having an undeniable effect on me. And it was profound. It sickened me to know this.
He was moaning loudly now. I felt him hook a finger under the crotch of my panties. I closed my eyes anticipating his violation.
His helmet, just inside my panties now, touched my slit.
"Oh Karen," he gasped. And I felt his cock bump against me, his hand pumped furiously, and then a warm wetness. He came, his cock just inside the crotch of my panties, his length along my slit. I felt him twitching, hot wet squirts soaking me.
I felt a strange mix of emotions. Some basic. Revulsion, feeling his come on me. Relief, that he hadn't fucked me. I felt so dirty and used, a pervert's masturbation aid.
Some more complex. If I'm totally honest, I have to admit I felt let down and disappointed, that it was suddenly over. I felt guilt at my own feelings of disappointment. Did part of me like this? Want this?
He drew his cock away slowly, leaving his spunk contained in my knickers. He replaced the semen laced gusset of my panties back over my crotch. I felt warm slimy wetness. Then his hand moved down from my mound, down between my legs, and he continued to massage me, smearing his semen into the folds of my slit. His fingers almost probing into the entrance of my pussy. My pussy lips were gooey with his seed.
I felt so disgusted. I tried to show him none of this, resolutely stone faced.
"Do prudish women like to be blackmailed, sexually harassed?" he asked as his hand continued working underneath my dress. I felt an orgasm welling up inside me. I tried to think about Steven.
"No Mr. Roth" I answered, stifling a moan. As I approached the point of no return, he suddenly stopped. It was like he knew the exact moment to stop.
"Do you think maybe, in their deepest darkest places, they want this? To relinquish control? To be absolved of any guilt through their lack of choice?"
Something in his words, the way he spoke them, resonated within me.
I teetered on a knife edge, on the very brink of orgasm. I was vibrating inside, humming. My body hovered in a perfect balance. One word, one move from him could've sent me over the edge. To me, it felt like he knew this.
His hand pulled away slowly. My dress dropped. It billowed slowly down, the hem brushed my calves as it fell, and that single sensation was enough to just push me over the edge. I suppressed a whimpered moan, as I felt the tendrils of revulsion turn from sickening nausea into warm pleasant waves of pulsing ecstasy. It was such a deep slow built orgasm, but instead of a dam crashing down the release finally came in an agonizingly slow way, the way you feel when slowly relieving a dangerously overfull bladder.
I was orgasming, but only barely. Because the orgasm released so slowly, the intense pleasure took so much longer to dissipate, it coursed through my veins. I simply stood, in my prudes dress, trembling, my pussy contracting powerfully yet so infrequently.
I didn't know if he knew what was happening to me. It seemed unlikely to be a coincidence. My pussy discharged with each contraction. My juices seeped into his, intermingling. My panties sopping now. I struggled, using every inch of my resolve to remain like the cold unfeeling statue, while turmoil and ecstasy overcame me.
"Thank you Karen, that will be all for today."
I turned, but found it difficult to walk away, my clit was pulsating. I don't think I've ever walked mid-orgasm before. As my legs moved, it stimulated my arousal further, allowing the dam of my pleasure to burst forth a little harder with every step I took.
I walked quickly to the ladies bathroom. There I found a cubicle. I tenderly pressed my hand flat between my legs, applying satisfying pressure, whimpering as the last waves of my orgasm softened to a dull aching pleasure. Overcome with emotion I began to cry. Crying seemed to quell the aching pleasure in my cunt. I knew he had awoken some darkness deep within me, and I hated him for it.
Driving home, so many thoughts raced in my mind. I wondered could he have gotten me pregnant doing what he just did. How could I face Steven? How could I continue working for that sleazy bastard. I was sickened. And yet some part of me was thrilled. Elated. Some part of me, a sick part, wanted to be used by him. Some part of me yearned for the feel of his cock inside me. For him to come deep within me.
My conscious mind rationalized. It wasn't my fault. I had no option. He forced me. As I drove homewards, I couldn't help but imagine him fucking me. Daydreaming, imagining that choice was not part of the equation. His words about control and choice echoed in my mind. I found myself getting savagely aroused.
When I arrived home I removed my stained panties, before leaving the car. I went inside, Steven said dinner was almost ready. When he looked at me did a double take.
"What's with the dress honey?" he asked, smiling. I could tell he was very amused.
"Where's Barry?" I asked, ignoring his question.
"It's Wednesday honey, he's got soccer practice tonight."
"I wore it for you," I lied, answering his first question.
I walked to him, and stood in front of him. His eyes widened in stunned surprise.
"Haven't you ever wanted to fuck a prim proper lady until she whimpered like a slut?"
I took his palm and placed it flat on my belly, the heel of his hand just below my belly button, his fingers pointing downwards towards my mound. He was starting to get the idea. His hand moved down, curving tightly around my mound. He pushed me back, laying me on the kitchen table. He smiled when he lifted my dress and saw there were no panties.
As he entered me, I closed my eyes. I was fantasizing about Jeremy Roth, wanting so much for it to be Jeremy's cock inside me. Craving it so much that it became real in my mind. He had barely got his full length into me before I started to come, whimpering like that prim proper slut I'd told him about. What was happening to me?
And as Steven fucked me, all I could think of was how badly I wanted Jeremy to come in me.
"Come in me, please come in me." I repeated over and over, a mantra, in between my breathless whimpers.
And he did. And in my mind it was Jeremy Roth, spraying a load of come inside me. Panting, I milked and milked every drop of sweet come from his cock, like such a good little slut
The rest of the evening was a little strange. An awkward silence hung in the air between us. In truth, I felt a heavy oppressive atmosphere hanging over me. A stressful feeling that was making me feel exhausted.
I went to sleep that night with absolutely no idea for how I was going to handle the next day. As I drifted off to sleep I wondered what might be in store for me tomorrow.