The Theft of Our Lives -- Mrs. Harris

Disclaimer: This is a non-canon side-story set in the Theft of Our Lives universe. It's a little darker than the main story, and contains various sex acts between adults including, but not limited to, d/s, b/d, interracial, oral, and non-consensual sex in the form of blackmail and coercion. Dedicated to a friend. The story, all names, and all characters are fictional. Any resemblance to entities or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. In real life, all non-consensual sex is immoral, illegal, and not condoned by the author. All characters are 18-years-old or older. All rights reserved.

Ellie's Change in Status

"As you can see from the chart, Mr. Allenby, the implementation of our new scheduling matrix provides a double-digit decrease in operational costs, while reducing time in transit as well, resulting in a better customer experience overall," Ellie explained succinctly by video conference to Hank Allenby, President and CEO of Allenby Consolidation, sitting in his plush U.S. office.

As is the nature of modern-day business communication in a time of global pandemic, Ellie had no idea the slight-framed man controlling the entire Allenby empire was without pants and receiving a sumptuous blowjob under his desk from Melanie Hamilton, the unfortunate 21-year-old granddaughter of Joyce Hamilton, company founder Carl Allenby's retired former secretary.

How Hank managed to transfer the onus of Joyce's burden to her appealing granddaughter was anybody's guess, but Melanie was now serving the remainder of her grandmother's penance with her succulent mouth and slender body.

Dressed in the same authentic cheerleader outfit she wore in college, with her cute, pixyish dark brown hair pinned back by colorful red barrettes, the aspiring schoolteacher reverentially practiced the art of edging the 55-year-old executive's rampant 8" shaft in a lesson on cock worship the tyrannical company president insisted she perfect for the benefit of his many powerful clients.

Analytical and smart, Mrs. Ellie Harris, the pretty blonde Senior Operations manager for the U.K. region was making her usual thorough and meticulous presentation from the satellite London office, joined by Jane Allenby, director of the company's U.K. operations, along with three other members of the regional executive committee.

"The net result is a substantial boost to our overall profitability," Ellie continued, pausing in her crisp, professional business suit for a moment and raising her head with a beaming smile of accomplishment.

"Fucking tart. Flashing her big tits for the camera to distract my brother," Jane Allenby cursed under her breath just out of earshot. "The credit for that increase properly belongs to me. The smarmy bitch is stealing my glory. She wants my position as director."

Shy and unassuming, Ellie wasn't nearly as ambitious as Jane pretended, but she was extremely competent and highly accomplished. That made her a threat to Ms. Allenby's job security, real or imagined, despite Jane's insider position as the sister of the company president.

Unfairly dismissed as a woman by their cold-hearted father, Carl, in favor of her younger brother as heir to the Allenby business empire, Jane was forced to earn her place in the company after suffering the unwarranted disapproval of her father, and then even Hank.

Relentless in her pursuit of their respect, and the power that came with it, while unerring in achieving her goals, Jane handled her job with calculated efficiency and a complete disregard for people. Those whom she despised, or those standing in her way posing a threat, were quickly dispatched on her ascension through the ranks.

Plain and looking more like her scrawny brother than she'd like to admit, but not otherwise unattractive, Jane Allenby was single and married to her career.

A mid-50's brunette with stringy shoulder-length hair, the uptight woman possessed a thin, gangly body with barely any curves whatsoever. Flat-chested with A-cup breasts, narrow hips, and downright skinny legs, she simply couldn't compete with a woman of the blonde manager's impressive curves.

Ellie Harris was an entirely different story -- average height, pretty, blonde, and well-built with generous curves forming a delightfully appealing body.

Newly married a year ago, the British wife worked hard to elevate herself and never used her fetching looks to advance herself or her career. While committed to her job, she had met the man of her dreams in Dan and easily swooned a smitten 'yes' when he asked her to marry him.

Now, Mrs. Harris was comfortable in the responsible position she held, earning it through brains and hard work. Ellie was on the way up, and the couple even recently purchased a charming flat in a tony downtown area that strained their budget but was simply too perfect to pass up and was a sound investment too.

Although Ellie dressed conservatively in keeping with a professional office environment, Jane saw the looks in the eyes of the men in her office, casting furtive glances at Ellie passing in the hall, or inadvertently drifting to the blonde wife's prodigious chest, even in serious business conversations.

No one's eyes ever drifted to Jane Allenby's chest, and that fact alone left her raw with envy and anger.

Perhaps it was the younger beauty's business acumen, or perhaps it was that Ellie was full of the curves that draw men's gaze, or perhaps it was that, while something of a taskmaster, she was engaging and popular with the office staff. For whatever reason, Jane didn't like Ellie from the start, and the bright manager's unintended challenge to her position simply couldn't stand.

Jealous, insecure, and vindictive, Jane decided Ellie needed to go.

The problem for Jane was that Ellie was a star employee, doing her job well with a stellar performance record. As a result, terminating the happily married woman wasn't an option. In typical Allenby manner, however, reducing the beauty to the lowest rung on the corporate ladder as office fucktoy was a possibility.

Cunning and lethal, the conniving brunette decided it was time to knock the rising star off her perch, steal her dignity, and bring her to heel, while extracting a measure of retribution she planned to enjoy thoroughly.

"Next week's corporate retreat is the perfect opportunity," Jane decided evilly with Machiavellian intent. "A weekend at the country estate will make for Ellie's destruction and will also be an excellent reward for the executive team."

The Retreat

Set in a peaceful English manor owned by the Allenby family, the annual off-site meeting of the executive team offered an ideal chance to meet and plan for the coming fiscal year. It was also secluded enough to meet Ms. Allenby's more treacherous ulterior motives.

"Lovely. It's so good of you all to make it on time. You know how much Allenby Consolidation values punctuality," Jane greeted the collected team on the evening before the first day of meetings and discussions.

"Cheers, everyone! Tonight, we relax and enjoy some food and wine, and tomorrow we undertake the true purpose for our gathering," the austere Allenby scion toasted, raising a glass of fine French Champagne.

The group was composed of nine executives altogether, including Jane and Ellie as the only women. Prominent among the group were Ashton Winslow, Finance Manager, Matthew Salinger, Sales Manager, and Brad Jackson, Ms. Allenby's chief lieutenant and only other American besides herself.

The senior executives were in their mid-to-late 40's and extremely loyal to Jane Allenby. The remaining four men were assistants to the managers in their mid-to-late 20's, including Mrs. Harris' own persevering lieutenant, Jack Fisk, along with Colin Brody, Roddy Fisher, and Kevin Malloy, the lone black man on the team.

As a business retreat, no spouses or significant others were permitted, and as the alcohol flowed, the conversation grew lively and a touch bawdy, especially considering the mixed company and the normally staid demeanor of the congregation during regular business hours.

While bashful by nature, Ellie joined the fray as well, shooting out a clever riposte or off-color joke as she too felt the influence of the drink and frivolity. Even her outfit was more relaxed than usual, although still modest -- a black skirt above the knees with sheer black stockings and a rose-colored silk blouse exhibiting a hint of her generous cleavage but nothing more, topping 3" black heels.

Tastefully, Mrs. Harris wore light make-up adorning her pretty face, with a hint of rose eyeshadow above her blue eyes and a subtle rose lipstick complementing her blouse. Her straight blonde shoulder-length hair was held by a decorative gold clasp in the back and that was it.

As the only women present, Jane and Ellie received an inordinate amount of attention from the men, but the manner of that attention was distinctly different, at least in the jaundiced appraisal of Jane Allenby. Raucous banter, suggestive comments, and inviting looks were thrown at Ellie, even by her own assistant Jack.

While Mrs. Harris played along good-naturedly, she easily rejected the overtures as a faithful and devoted wife to Dan.

Jane was also highly involved, but none of the remarks directed her way were even remotely provocative or improper, and that unintended slight only served to madden her further, raising her desire for justice, at least her form of it, to ever greater heights of enmity.

"You'll soon get all the attention you want, Ellie, and even more that you don't," Jane swore vengefully.

First Day

"W-hat?" Ellie asked groggily, shaking her head of the fog of too much drink, lying uncertain of her circumstances, and wondering why she couldn't remember.

Intending to rub her eyes, the confused wife found herself unable to do so, with her hands cuffed behind her back and bent at the elbows, with her forearms bound against each other and effectively immobilized.

"I, uh, damn, what's going on?" she exclaimed with alarm, twisting in bed with her eyes popping to life while sensing she was without sheets or a bedspread.

"Wait, it's dark. Is it still nighttime?" Ellie questioned at first, blinking two or three times, but seeing nothing before sensing the blindfold covering her eyes.

"Close, my dear, at least for you," a steely cold female voice dripping with unrestrained enthusiasm for Ellie's predicament whispered within an inch of her ear.

"Who? What's happening?" the startled businesswoman queried, not recognizing the evil tone before recognition filled her blank expression.

"Jane? Is that you? W-what's happening? I can't see you. Where am I?" Ellie stammered nervously, feeling suddenly in peril despite the now-familiar voice of her boss, naively hoping for the presence of a sympathetic woman understanding her growing fear.

"Jane is so informal, my pretty slut, Mistress Jane, is more accurate, and is what you call me from now on," the gleeful Allenby outcast countered.

"I can't see. I don't understand. Why can't I move my hands? My arms?" Mrs. Harris yelped, panicking at the realization something was terribly wrong and totally disregarding the implication of the deferential moniker.

Feeling the cool morning air on her skin, the befuddled woman assumed her blouse and skirt were missing, but she knew at a minimum she still wore her underwear, including her lacy bikini panties and black bra.

"All will be revealed, my big-titted minx, and in more ways than you can imagine. I promise, in due time you'll understand completely," Jane replied deliberately, grasping a clump of Ellie's straight blonde hair by a knotted braid at the top of her head forming a makeshift rein and pulling upward.

Lifting Ellie and forcing her to clamber to her feet, the disoriented wife quickly realized the heels from last night were still in place too, and from the feel of the sheer material clinging to her long legs, her mid-thigh, black hold-up stockings.

"Huh? Ohhh," Ellie gasped at the firm shove to her back, propelling her forward.

"YOW!" she shrieked at the insult to her plump derriere when a fierce smack came down on her right butt cheek by what felt like a thin paddle, or possibly a wooden ruler or measure.

"Move along, my pretty bitch, you've got a long day in front of you," Ms. Allenby, now Mistress Jane, barked.

Scooting Ellie forward in a compelled march, the dazed blonde manager was uncertain of where and which direction she was headed, but sensed she'd left her room and must be traversing a hallway, since it was a straightforward trek.

Modestly, the newlywed flushed with embarrassment walking through the manor so scantily clad, fearing someone, perhaps one of her male co-workers, might see her in such indecent attire. The troubled woman consciously perceived a creepy sense of eyes on her, and possibly the hush of shallow breathing, although it might have been her own.

In fact, every single man on the executive team lined the hallway watching from their bedroom doors as Ms. Allenby guided their second-in-command, bound, and dressed only in her lacy underthings, to the estate's Great Room, now a converted dungeon.

Seven sets of eyes followed Ellie's journey, hungrily ogling her every exposed curve, and anxious for more.

Carefully chosen and dependent on Ms. Allenby's favor for their high salaries and career advancement, the seven men were disinclined, and even intimidated, to report any misdeed by the ruthless woman. The rewards for loyalty to Jane were many, and the prospect of a weekend assisting their wicked boss in solving her Ellie Harris problem offered the most appealing benefit yet.

Prodded along, the thirty-something wife marched into the Great Room, tastefully decorated in English manor style, unknowingly accompanied by a silent procession of the seven barefoot men wearing stylish white robes giving the scene a ritualistic quality.

Had she the benefit of sight, the array of bondage implements, and the apparatus designed to gradually reduce a proud woman to nothing more than a compliant, whimpering fucktoy, would undoubtedly be cause for concern.

'Womp,' the door closed, again giving the highly agitated British wife a start.

"What are we, uh, doing, Jane?" Ellie asked tentatively and with some difficulty speaking between her nervous breaths.

"Smack!" another smart crack landed on Ellie's soft behind sending her jumping in retreat.

"Mistress Jane, damnit, now say it!" the angered director demanded, correcting the error immediately with a spank from her long ruler.

"YIKES!" the wounded beauty screeched again in pain, shuffling along as Jane pulled her another few feet by her braided blonde rein.

"Oh, I, um, Mis-stress J-Jane," Ellie stammered, now truly in fear and wanting to rebel, needing to run away at any cost in her frantic mind and go anywhere but here.

Instead, with hands bound to her elbows, the big-breasted wife found herself bumped at the back of her knees, breaking her stance, and dropping her unceremoniously to the parquet floor.

In a flash, Ellie's arms were hooked to a crossbar behind her back and her forearms locked in place between two adjustable poles on either side. Moments after that, the sounds of turning knobs signaled the bar raising, bringing Mrs. Harris' buxom torso up with it and leaving her helplessly on display despite herself.

"Ahhh," Ellie peeped when an unexpected tug of her hair pulled her head back, with the length of nylon rope woven into the braid affixing it to the crossbar, leaving her face turned 45 degrees towards the ceiling until her neck strained.

"What are you doing? Why? What have I done?" the distressed manager implored, more apprehensive than ever while still having an eerie sense of being watched.

Ellie tuned her ears acutely to the shuffle of feet and shallow breathing but was only met with silence as Ms. Allenby went about her business of trussing the forlorn damsel.

"Smack!" a quick spank to her primed bottom drew more panic from Mrs. Harris, but it was a couple of well-placed slaps to Ellie's tender her inner thighs that drew the reaction Jane desired, with her captive defensively parting her toned legs at the knee.

Swiftly, a saddle-like device was rolled between her legs, stopping when the buried tip of a blunt column firmly contacted her panty-covered pussy at the entrance, with the poor woman's most intimate anatomy vulnerable and undefended.

"Don't! No, let me go! You can't do this, Ms. Allenby. I'll call the police. I'll have you arrested!" Ellie rambled, unable to escape and irrationally believing the threats might dissuade her captor.

"It's Mistress Jane, you dumb cunt, and that seems unlikely, as you're in no position to go anywhere," Jane countered gleefully, admiring her handiwork with Ellie's bound arms hooked over the crossbar and her head turned upward, forcing her big tits invitingly forward while her crotch remained accessible to whatever torment she devised.

"Don't call me that. I'm not a, a c-cunt. You can't keep me here forever!" the struggling blonde charged.

"Well, maybe, but I have plans for you, Mrs. Harris. Wonderful plans, in fact. By the time you leave you'll be nothing more than a lowdown cocksucking cumslut violating every marital vow you cherish, and you won't go to the police either," the severe older woman retorted, confident in her scheme for the defilement of her nemesis and her elimination as a threat to her position.

"No, stop it! Stop saying that. I love Dan. I'm a good wife!" Ellie protested, struggling to speak through her rage at the derogatory names.

"Oh, I'm sure you are, but you won't be for much longer. If you're very good, your sweet Dan will never need to know of his bride's slutty new life as a worthless whore. On the other hand?" Jane assured coolly, leaving a more sinister insinuation hanging in the air.

"I won't be any such thing. You can't make me," the thirty-something manager refused adamantly.

"Oh, I can, and you will be. I assure you, and you'll even understand how I made you a worthless whore" the director calmly advised. "Now, let's get started, shall we?"

"Oh, by the way, feel free to bitch, shout, and complain all you want, because as you saw on the drive in, there's no one around for miles and the house staff is very loyal," Jane emphasized without concern, reminding Mrs. Harris of their isolated location.

Ellie heard what sounded to be hard heels tapping on the floor, circling her as prey and evaluating her weak points, ready to pounce. Indeed, Jane dressed for the occasion in a full-on skintight black leather dominatrix outfit, outlining her small breasts against the tight fabric with her narrow hips framing her scrawny buttocks.

"You are cute, though, I'll admit that. At least, in a modest housewifey kind of way," Jane observed critically. "I can see what attracted Dan. Well, that and those big tits. I'm sure he wanted to bone you the moment you met."

"No, he's not like that. He's a good man. He loves me and we have a good marriage," Ellie objected vehemently, defending her husband and the sanctity of their wedded bliss.

"Well, you had a good marriage, I'd say, and don't be so naïve. He's a man and he thinks with his dick. Dan wants the same thing every man wants -- a hot wife with big jugs and an insatiable appetite for sex," the imperious Mistress snickered. "Hell, he'll probably like the new Mrs. Harris better when you return home."

"Don't, please don't say that," Ellie pouted, wounded by the disparagement of her beloved husband, and frightened by the implied threat to her sacred marriage if she wasn't cooperative with whatever Ms. Allenby had planned.

"So, tell me, slut, did you flash those big whore knockers at him to get his attention the way you do my brother?" Jane taunted, starting easy but ready to ramp up the derision in verbally chastising the shaken wife.