Nancy Mitchell's Other Life Ch. 01

Everyone in this story is over 18, including the fantasy people described in the story.

"All right, we're ready Ms. Mitchell. My name is Agent Christine Waters. Before we start the official polygraph we need to establish a baseline. Please answer the following questions truthfully with a simple 'yes' or 'no.' Is your name Nancy Mitchell?"

"Yes."

"Are you twenty-seven years old?"

"Yes."

"Do you work at the Federal Crime Bureau?"

"Yes."

"Are you a field agent at the Federal Crime Bureau?"

"No, but I've always wanted-"

"A simple yes or no please. Are you a field agent at the Federal Crime Bureau?"

"No."

"Are you a data analyst at the Federal Crime Bureau?"

"Yes."

"Are you currently married?"

"No."

The polygraph machine hummed in the corner of the room. Agent Waters glanced over at the technician, who looked back and nodded. She then turned her green, emotionless eyes back to Nancy Mitchell, the subject of the exam. Nancy stared straight ahead and forced her breathing to remain steady and regular. Even though the polygraph was purely routine and done yearly as part of the annual security clearance review, it still rattled a lot of people. Agent Waters secretly enjoyed that feeling of control over the subjects of the exam, of coiled tension radiating off the people she interviewed. She kept her personal proclivities separate from her job though, and her expression remained neutral as she started going through the questions in a flat, level voice.

Meanwhile, Nancy Mitchell tried to keep her own thoughts under control. It wasn't easy. Previously the polygraph had been conducted by dull men and women in off-the-rack suits as boring as she was. Agent Christine Waters, however, was right out of Nancy's dirtiest fantasies, and she had some very dirty fantasies. She had even written some of them down and put them on the internet (anonymously, of course), and from the blond buzz-cut to the big tits that looked amazing even under the dress-shirt and tailored suit jacket, Christine Waters was exactly the sort of woman Nancy had spent many nights picturing while she typed with one hand and stroked her sopping wet pussy with the other. A calm, cool, and collected but severe and handsome woman who towered over Nancy, and ordered her to do the most sordid, embarrassing, humiliating things. No, who made her beg to do those things.

In her fantasies it was never enough for Nancy to be made to degrade herself for someone else's pleasure, she needed to be re-programmed to want to degrade herself for someone else's pleasure. To get off on being turned from a competent if rather dull career woman with no sex life into a depraved slut who craved her own shame and humiliation and eventually destroyed everything because of her greedy pussy's need for orgasms that she had willingly surrendered. Who got addicted to the thrill of submission and humiliation and kept looking for new lows to sink to for her owner's amusement. Who needed to be owned and controlled by someone who would use her own degenerate lust to grind her down into something less than human.

But those were just fantasies. As much as her lust wanted her to sink to the floor and crawl over and beg to perform the most depraved acts for the privilege of licking Agent Water's black leather shoes, Nancy kept her breathing slow and steady, and answered the questions calmly and evenly. Eventually, she managed to put her fantasies out of her mind and set herself on a kind of auto-pilot. The monotonous drone of questions and answers filled the room. "Have you ever destroyed government property? Have you ever been contacted by someone from a foreign government? Are you having financial problems?" The answers were as bland and routine as the questions until Agent Waters asked, "Are there any aliases, pseudonyms, or other names that you have used?"

Nancy was still lost in the rhythm, and answered before she thought of the consequences. "Yes."

Agent Waters tapped on her keyboard but didn't even look up. It was a routine question, with plenty of routine answers admitting to nothing more unusual than maiden names, variations of legal names, or even video game handles. She read the follow-up question from her prompt, "When have you used this other alias, pseudonym, or other name?"

But Nancy didn't have a maiden name, and she didn't play video games online. Even her civilian email was just her first and last name and the domain of her email provider. Her breath caught and she started to sweat, and shame rushed through her, clouding her judgment. Her heart rate increased, and she knew the machine knew, and the feeling of being trapped started to fill her mind. She had to tell the truth, or she could be fired. But she also wanted to tell the truth. Some part of her craved the idea of humiliating herself in front of this frosty bitch with her big tits and dispassionate stare, but another part of her still tried to hold back, to remember that reality had consequences her fantasies didn't, and to minimize the damage. She licked her lips and spoke with the slightest tremor, "In high school and college I had a nickname."

Agent Waters still showed about as much interest as she would if someone told her there was a loaf of bread on their grocery list, but entered the answer and read the next question. "What was the aforementioned nickname?"

Now Nancy was really cornered, and it felt delicious. Her only choices were confess something she was still incredibly ashamed of, or probably lose her security clearance and then her job. She forced herself to speak loudly and clearly. The way the shame sluts in her stories did when they were describing their most embarrassing sexual desires while edging themselves, getting as close as they could to an orgasm before backing off, looking into a camera and knowing they were giving their nemesis everything they needed to destroy them for being a weak-willed slut but still not able to stop themselves. "The nickname was 'Mosquito Bites' Mitchell."

Agent Waters took an eternity to look up from her computer screen, but managed to keep a neutral expression when she finally did. Barely. "Please explain." It wasn't a request, and Nancy tried to ignore the sensations developing deep in her pussy. The neutral, bland, professional tone made her feel like she was being dissected by this woman, who was so clearly her superior in every way. She loved it. The lie detector apparatus wrapped around her chest and stomach, and her lack of cleavage was obvious, but Agent Waters was making her confess her inadequacy. To explain her tiny breasts to the room. Just like the poor little horny bitches in the stories she wrote.

"I..." Nancy swallowed hard. She tried to keep the memories from bubbling up, tried to ignore the delicious feeling of shame still pulsing through her stomach and down to her pussy, the feeling she craved but had kept so secret from everyone else until now. She couldn't afford to lose her job, she just couldn't. And the cold, domineering tone was awakening something inside of her she never let out in front of anyone else. She took a deep breath though, and still tried to chose her words very carefully. "I was very flat chested in high school, and barely filled an A-cup. I didn't want to be a virgin when I went to college, and my senior year a boy and I, we were making out at a party at my best friend's house. He took my shirt off, then my bra, and I let him, but my bra was padded and when he saw my breasts he started laughing, so I slapped him and went home. The next day at school he told everyone about my... my chest size. And someone asked him if my breasts were bigger or smaller than mosquito bites. And then it became my nickname. I went to college in the same town I grew up in, and so did he, so he told people there too."

Nancy paused, then the desire to shame herself to Agent Waters even further exploded inside of her and before she could stop herself more words came out. "To summarize, everyone called me 'Mosquito Bites' because my breasts were so small that even when I was eighteen they looked more like swelling from two insect bites than a real woman's breasts."

While Nancy was talking Agent Waters had kept her face carefully bland, but shifted her posture slightly. Her shoulders went back, and her own large breasts came out. A subtle display of her power, of the tits that were so obviously larger than Nancy's. The tits that made her more of a woman. That made her better. A display that was not lost on Nancy, but she ultimately could have resisted. But then, Nancy finished her answer, and when Agent Waters asked the next question the slightest hint of a smirk crossed her lips. "And have you used the aforementioned nickname since college?"

That smirk, that damned smirk on Agent Waters' lips. It pushed Nancy deeper into her fantasy, and made her confess something that would change her life forever. It was just a simple twitch of the lips, barely noticeable, but Nancy couldn't stop herself. Or maybe she didn't want to. Afterwards, she was never sure which. "Yes I have used it since then."

Agent Waters eyes were no longer disinterested. They looked like the eyes of a cat toying with wounded prey. All pupils and cruel expectation. "Explain."

The one-word command Nancy had been waiting for. The chance to really humiliate and degrade herself in front of this woman. This superior, calm, confident woman with her jugs who was always in control and never fantasized about surrendering her clothing, her orgasms, her dignity, her entire life to someone who despised her and only toyed with her to push her further down into her shame. "I write pornographic-I mean erotic, I write erotic stories about women with small breasts being dominated by women with much larger breasts and post them on the internet. I post them under the username 'Miss Mosquito Bites.'" Somehow she had managed to avoid using words like "humiliated," "degraded," "orgasm control," "everyone nude female," or "wardrobe control" but she still felt dangerously unhinged. She forced herself to remain in the chair. Even if she did get out of it and detach the monitoring equipment she wasn't sure if she would have the willpower to flee the room or if she would drop to her knees.

Agent Waters let the silence hang in the small room, then blinked and leaned back in her chair. Nancy was clearly flustered. Breathing hard and fast. Her left leg was bouncing up and down. Her cheeks were flushed and she kept swallowing hard and licking her lips. Agent Waters could have stopped the questioning, but something in her made her twist the knife a little more. "You didn't mention this at your last annual review Ms. Mitchell. Why?"

"I..." Nancy swallowed hard and blinked. "I had forgotten about the college nickname until recently. I wasn't using it when I had my last annual review, Agent Waters." She probably could have stopped there and satisfied the question, but her lust pushed her to give more details. "About six or seven months ago I was reading an erotic story on the internet, about a woman who was a lot like me, and it reminded me of the nickname. I decided to write stories myself to try to work through some lingering feelings about my own embarrassment. About my..." Nancy nearly said "mosquito bites" but with a Herculean effort of will managed to stop herself and force her tongue to make a less damaging admission while her cunt throbbed in anger at being denied. "About my old nickname."

Agent Waters nodded. She could have prolonged the questioning, asked more follow-up questions, but she had what she needed for the security clearance review. And a thread for something else far more interesting, and that thread was all she needed. Time to let poor little Nancy and her flat chest have a breather before she panicked and did something stupid. She could wrap this portion of the interview up, consider her options, and explore other avenues later. "And other than the aforementioned nickname do you use any aliases, pseudonyms, or other names?"

"No." Nancy finally got herself under control and her voice was unemotional again. She was horrified at what she had just admitted, but her pussy was twitching and she ached to masturbate while replaying that simple word, "Explain," and the sight of those lips turned up in a mocking little smile in her mind. The part of her that was screaming that she may have just lost her job only fed her fantasies more. She was trying not to imagine being naked on her knees with her hands spreading her pussy lips wide open, her most intimate secrets on display, a collar padlocked around her neck and a leash leading to Agent Waters hand, begging to keep her job, promising to do the most humiliating and degrading acts, to be Agent Waters personal toy, her plaything, when the polygraph technician coughed softly and motioned Agent Waters over.

Nancy sat alone with her fantasies and her turmoil while they whispered, until Agent Waters walked over and started disconnecting the sensors on her skin. "It's a little early, but let's take a break for lunch until noon. Your blood pressure and pulse are so elevated that those answers and any others will be non-conclusive for a little while." She paused, and stared into Nancy's eyes. "The good news is that the release form you signed gives us leave to investigate anything you say here, so we can verify those answers independently and you won't have to answer those specific questions again." Agent Waters leaned over her to take off the blood pressure cuff on Nancy's arm. The agent's breasts were practically in Nancy's face, and her lips only an inch from her ear when Agent Waters whispered, "And I'll personally be checking on those stories that you write, Miss Mosquito Bites."

Nancy whimpered through her clenched jaw, but managed to stand up and walk out of the room before she burst into tears or said something completely unprofessional. What had she just done? She couldn't think. Her panties were definitely soaked and she was so horny but she also felt like she was going to vomit. She was incredibly turned on and at the same time so very disgusted with herself, just like the shame sluts with the tiny tits she wrote about in her stories. She quickly walked to the nearest restroom, went in, and went to the sink. She splashed cool water on her face, stared at herself in the mirror, and tried to get her thoughts in order. What were her options, how bad was this, what was going to happen when Agent Waters read those stories and analyzed the security implications?

Deleting the stories wouldn't help, they were always being copied and cross-posted to other sites. Besides, trying to hide them would probably lead to more trouble than just letting Agent Waters read them. They were filthy, and sordid, and deeply embarrassing, and frankly had very unrealistic expectations about how long you could be naked in a public restroom while someone sexually tormented you before a third party came in to pee, but everyone was clearly over eighteen, and they were obviously fantasy. The Federal Crime Bureau was never going to be considered progressive or even liberal, but being outed as bisexual or a lesbian, even a kinky one, wouldn't end someone's career anymore. Probably.

But the part of her that craved humiliation and exposure reminded her that her deepest, most deviant sexual fantasies were about to become an official part of her security clearance dossier. Stories of flat-chested women like her being humiliated by women with bigger tits, of becoming their lesbian sex slave, of serving them nude, of being their plaything. Of giving them control of her orgasms, control of her clothing and wardrobe, of public nudity and forced exhibitionism, of being ordered to satisfy women and men in the most perverse ways, of humiliation and degradation. And Agent Waters would be reading them all.

Nancy couldn't stop picturing the stacked blond sitting at her computer. She would have that cruel little smile on her face while she read all the stories of women like Nancy falling victim to cruel tops with stunning breasts who trained and molded them to get off from public exposure. And pain. And being totally under someone else's control. Maybe it wouldn't end her career, but if her colleagues ever found out the teasing would never end. Uggghhhh the sheer humiliation of the thought finally lead her into a bathroom stall where she lifted up her conservative skirt, jerked her panties off, and stuffed them in her mouth.

Nancy imagined that it was Agent Waters panties stuffed in her mouth, sweet with the taste of her hot pussy juice. She moaned and rubbed her clit, teasing herself, letting her lust build. Someone came in, and she tried to be quiet, but soft moans still escaped her mouth. She rocked her hips back and forth, imagining the agent towering over her and shredding her clothes right in front of her eyes, taunting her with scissors and entire pieces of clothing going into a garbage can. Of reducing her once professional outfits to slutwear that would leave her ass and pussy barely covered, of letting her tiny little tits nearly pop out every time she moved her arms or leaned over. Of the agent reminding her of the consequences of an unauthorized orgasm. Demanding she edge herself until she was practically insane with lust. That barbed smile looking down at her while Agent Waters pulled her head between her thighs and ordered her to lick.

Nancy's fingers were rubbing her clit harder now, and she slid a finger inside her pussy. Her juicy hole was already so wet and hot that one finger wasn't enough for her voracious cunt and she slid another inside herself, and began working them in and out. As always she thought of one of her stories while she played with herself.

She was the founder of a tech company that made fitness monitors, and had hired her old high school and college nemesis Julie as her secretary. Perfect popular Julie with her epic breasts and handsome boyfriend Jake. Nancy had always wanted Jake, but she was a flat chested wallflower and Julie was, well, Julie. Jake had proposed to Julie at prom while Nancy cried in a corner, alone and unnoticed in her padded bra. But then Nancy had gone on to create a successful tech company, and Jake had blown out his knee in college before he could play football in the majors, and Jake and Julie's perfect life had ended almost before it began. And then Julie had applied for a job at Nancy's company.

Julie had cried real tears of gratitude when Nancy told her of course, she'd be happy to hire an old school chum and help her out. That hadn't stopped Nancy from ruining Julie's life for the next five years though. Nothing sexual, just long nights of uncompensated overtime, no raises, rising health insurance costs, always having to work late on her birthday and holidays. Nancy even managed to schedule a major project deadline so that Julie missed her father's funeral. Then finally, the office holiday party, and Nancy's masterstroke: Jake was a little drunk, and very horny after his wife's late nights at the office, and Nancy had asked him to come into her executive suite to catch up on old times and show him something...

His dick was everything Nancy had imagined. She hadn't had time for romance while she was building her company, and that thick, hard cock sliding into her pussy made her come almost instantly. Jake's needs had been building as well, and he fucked her hard and fast. His hands on her hips, holding her in place on her desk with her face pointed towards the office door while his cock was stretching her out and filling her up. His balls were slapping against her clit as he took her from behind, driving her mercilessly towards another orgasm. Nancy didn't think she'd be able to come again so soon, but then Jake's cock started twitching, filling her pussy a second time with his hot come, and just then Julie walked in. Nancy had never come so hard in her life. Her toes curled, her brain exploded, her pussy clenched so hard she could feel every vein and ridge on Jake's cock. Her pussy clamped down and held him deep inside her spasming cunt while his wife looked on in shock. The dick was amazing, but it was the look on Julie's face that pushed Nancy over the edge and made her come. It had been so exquisite, perfect, a huge payoff after years of foreplay tormenting her old enemy.