The Third Option Ch. 01

It was a beautiful Saturday morning.

"Here's twenty dollars," Rachel said as she took the majority of his cash and all of his credit cards out of his wallet then offered it back to him with the single twenty dollar bill in it. She dropped it a split second before his hand reached it and he had to bend down to pick it up off the ground. She took a moment to see if any of the other shoppers in the mall were watching.

He was almost fifty and fit (thanks to her) and this morning she made a big deal of dressing him for this outing. She picked out a nice dark brown Tommy button down shirt and Ralph Lauren denim pants. He almost balked at the shoes but instead squeezed his men's size eleven feet into the red four inch pumps without protest. She special ordered them for him the week before and they came with a matching red belt.

She had never submitted him to cross dressing before so his walk out to the car from the house and then from the car into the mall was the sum total of his experience in heels. He did not fall but he looked ridiculous. Having to bend over to get the wallet further amused her.

"Dude, what the fuck are those?" one out of a group of skater boys in their teens asked as they walked past while pointing at his shoes. The other's looked and laughed loudly while pointing and calling out insults. "Your dad's a dork!" one said to her and she giggled at how red his face turned.

"You aren't my dad, you're my bitch," she whispered to him. "Say it."

"I am your bitch Lady Rachel."

"Why?"

"Because I am not a woman as I have a cock. Yet I am also not a man because a real man, even the lowest example of the gender, would never look to raping an employee as an acceptable course of action, which is exactly what I did when I made advances toward you when you worked for me."

"That's exactly right!" she said with a smirk as two elderly women passed them while whispering to themselves. She made him memorize that response over the last two years and to this day made him repeat it at least twice a day.

"I gave you options remember?"

"Yes Lady Rachel."

"What were those options?"

"To turn myself into the police immediately and confess my crimes was my first option. To mutilate myself by removing my own testicles, which are the source of my perverse desires, was my second option. To submit to your will completely was my third option."

"And you chose?"

"The third option Lady Rachel."

"And what has that cost you?"

"Confession of adultery to, and consequential divorce, from my wife, estrangement from my children, surrender of my business, my house, my cars, my boat, and the lavish lifestyle to which I was accustomed."

"And who are you Monday thru Friday?"

"I am Ben Dillard; Maintenance Supervisor of Dillard properties."

"And on nights and weekends?"

"I am Ben the creepy douche, on call bitch boy to Lady Rachel, and slave to her every whim."

"That's right!" She chuckled. She was really hoping he would mess up but he obviously had his lines down by now.

"So how do you like it?"

"It is bliss." He knew to try to make this last line sincere and it made her giggle.

He kept his hands at his sides the entire time he spoke and never made eye contact with her. It was such a change from the cocksure executive who asked her to stay late and help him with a project when she was eighteen. It was probably tough to maintain the masculine swagger he used to have while wearing four inch heels and carrying the memories of all the humiliations she subjected him to.

Then he was a long time friend of the family and one of her father's golfing and fishing buddies. In a million years she never would have suspected he might betray the trust her family put in him. When he made the pass at her the violation was not to her sexual innocence, that was long gone already, it was to her faith in the adults in her life.

"Can you stay after hours and help me go over the Peterson contract?" he asked her. She almost rolled her eyes. He waited until everyone else was gone for the day and she was heading for the door. She was his newest and least qualified to go over any contracts employee. She reached into her phone and set it to record audio while pretending to send a text. She put the phone back in her purse. At that moment she figured, hoped, it was probably nothing.

She was shocked he was doing it and curious to know if he would actually go through with it. He did. They completed the project in less than an hour. Now they were alone in the office together and she hoped he would do the honorable thing and let her go. When it was done he invited her into his personal office instead. She brought her purse. He asked her about school, her grades, and what she wanted out of life as he poured himself a Scotch from his office mini bar. She answered dutifully, her curiosity did not allow her to encourage nor discourage his actions.

"How old are you?" he asked as he took his first sip and turned to face her.

"Eighteen, just turned."

"Wow!" He chuckled and shook his head. "I remember being eighteen. That was a long time ago. How old do you think I am?"

"Sixty-seven, sixty-six?" she replied with her face crinkled into a guessing expression. And that almost threw him off his game as it was a solid blow to a man in his mid life crisis. He was forty-six and everybody in the office knew it as it was announced and the "of age" staff went out for drinks to celebrate his birthday just two months before. The blow was not solid enough though and after snapping the correct answer at her he resumed his seduction. She was fascinated.

"I remember at eighteen I took a drink from time to time. If I offer you a sip of wine you won't tell your daddy on me will you?"

"No sir," she replied. My daddy is the least of your worries if you stay on this tack she thought to herself.

He opened a bottle of wine, it was a Zinfandel, and weaker than the stock her and her friends usually pilfered from her parent's liquor cabinet at home. She took a sip of the wine and nodded her thanks. "So are we done for tonight?" she asked.

"Well I thought we might get to know each other a little."

"You've known me since I was a little girl Mr. Dillard." Here's your reminder. "I mean, I am still a little girl, but you knew me when I was in diapers."

"You have grown into a beautiful young lady."

"Thank you. It's very nice of you to say."

"I bet you hear it a lot Rachel. Have you had any boyfriends yet?"

"Nothing serious." I let Diego McKenzie go all the way with me a few years ago and we remain pretty active sexually, but that's none of your business.

"Maybe an older man could teach you some things."

"Like what?"

He crossed the room then leaned in and kissed her.

"Not cool Mr. Dillard," she said as she pulled away from his kiss and pulled her purse closer so her phone picked up every word.

"Not yet, but it will be. Trust me."

He was speaking quickly, his words were not well thought out. His movements, as he clutched at her arms with each hand, were frantic. It hurt, he was squeezing too hard. He had to know what he was doing was wrong. He had to know he was betraying her father, her family, and years of friendship. He had to know what he was risking. Was his male desire blinding him to all that?

"Mr. Dillard, stop, please. You are hurting my arms."

"There's a future in my company for girls, young women, who go the extra mile," he blathered as his right hand dropped and caressed her round ass.

Part of her wanted to bail, to run out of the office, but she hated that part of her. She hated to be, or act, like a victim. Her father raised her with a strong sense of personal accountability. While the part of her that was bent on flight tried to influence her to do what, probably, most girls did, the other part of her, the part she liked, wanted to fight. Was she the first girl he tried this on? She was curious to see how far he might take it. She decided she was going to definitely be the last girl he tried this on.

"Stop this now," she said but other than that did nothing to stop him. She shouldn't have to. He pulled her to him aggressively and forced his lips down on hers. His breath tasted like the scotch and his tongue forced its way past her lips and into her mouth. She did not respond and she let him guide her back to the couch in the corner of his office and lay her back on it. His hands trembled as he undid the buttons on her shirt. He looked at her face and she remembered wondering what he expected to find there. Youthful arousal? Horror?

"Mr. Dillard, stop, I don't want this," she said clearly and audibly.

"Trust me, trust me, Rachel. Give it a chance, you'll like it. I promise."

Now she was mildly amused and incredibly curious to see if he would really do it. She was no stranger to sex but this was her first, and hopefully last, rape. She could lash out physically but she shouldn't have to. Her curiosity about the lengths he would take this got the better of her. He was an adult and she was, should be, considered a child in his eyes. It was grossly inappropriate and he was expected to know better. She kept the disgust off her expression and just stared at him to see what he would do next.

Once her shirt was unbuttoned down to her jeans his hands and lips roamed over her bra. Then the bra was wrenched down and she felt her nipples crinkle in the cold air of his office. She liked her breasts. They were full and firm like her mother's but a couple sizes smaller. Thirty-two C's with small nipples centered nicely took up all of Benjamin Dillard's attention while she stared at the ceiling of his office and wondered what to do about all this. She let out no moans or whimpers like she did when Diego was doing it.

She flinched slightly as he nipped a little too hard at her flesh and that little nip triggered her anger. Her curiosity dissolved and was replaced by disgust and rage. A plan formed in her head and the steps fell into place nicely. She would own him and slowly destroy him for doing this but first she needed to let him do it. She would give him every chance to correct his own behavior but if he didn't she was going to bring him to his knees in every way she could think of. Thank God she thought to put her recorder on.

"Mr. Dillard? I don't think you should be doing this." She said it meekly, like a victim might. Rachel had never been a victim in her life. With a workaholic father and a drunken mother, Rachel figured out early in life what made the world go around and how to fend for herself.

"Just lay back and enjoy it sweetheart." Even though they were the only people in the office he said it in a breathy whisper.

She laid back and let him tug her jeans and panties off her hips. "Shaved!" he cried in appreciation when she was exposed. Diego liked that too. He splayed her long legs and sunk his tongue into her core and lapped at her noisily. She stared down at the plugs in his scalp as his head moved vigorously between her legs. When he realized this was not doing anything for her he rose over her and his hands tore at the buttons of his pants frantically. She watched with disgust as he exposed himself.

It was longer and fatter than Diego's but wreathed in course black and grey hairs; a thick bush of them that tangled about the base and clung halfway up the rigid shaft. It was hard and veiny and throbbed in his fist. Her previously splayed legs tried to close together of their own volition but he caught them and wrenched them open again and pulled her ass to the edge of the couch. He licked the fingers of his right hand and transferred the moisture to the fat head of his cock then put it in position for his initial thrust.

This is the line! she thought to herself. Realize what you are doing and stop yourself before you cross the line! By all rights he crossed the line an hour ago when he asked her to stay late with him, but she drew the line here. If he stopped now, showed shame and remorse, and promised to get help she would be willing to let it go.

She grunted as he crossed the line and filled her with his hairy old cock. "Oh God, no!" she shouted at her phone. She brought her hands up and went for his eyes. It was done, her curiosity was satisfied. Time to end it. She just barely got her right thumb into his left eye when he batted her arms away hard in a panic. She tried again and he grabbed both her wrists in his big right hand and pinned them to the couch. He slammed every last inch of himself into her and she felt his warm explosion throb within her. His entire body convulsed with his orgasm. He two stroke dumped and somewhere in the back of her mind she realized this further disgusted her for totally different reasons.

She looked up at his face and took satisfaction from the spot of blood at the corner of his left eye and the scratches from her nails on his cheeks and forehead. His left eye was squeezed closed and his teeth were gritted with pain and climax. A stream of drool escaped his bottom lip and stretched down to land on her left breast. He was gasping through the aftershocks of his orgasm and blowing more slobber onto her.

"What the fuck was that for?" he asked angrily as he felt his eye and at the scratches on his face.

"Get off me Mr. Dillard," she said calmly but she could feel the anger still welling up inside her.

"Considering where my cock is I think we can dispense with the 'Mr. Dillards' around here."

"Yes, your cock is inside me, I told you not to do it and you raped me. Now get off me."

"Rape? Come on, rape?"

"Get the fuck off me Mr. Dillard."

"Fine," he said.

He pulled his sticky dick out of her with a wince and a groan then rolled to sit on the couch next to her but as soon as he let go of her hands she got up and pulled her panties up and her shirt together. She grabbed her purse and ran to his private bathroom with her jeans around one ankle and locked herself in. She stared into the mirror and fought to calm herself down. She wanted to grab something and beat him to death. He had about a hundred and fifty soft pounds on her one-ten but she was sure that with her rage and a blunt weapon she could take him. She reminded herself that if she calmed down, and thought this through, she could make a much more lasting impression on him, exact a toll for his transgressions, and maybe have a little fun.

She got her breathing, trembling, and emotions under control then pulled her pants up and buttoned her shirt. She examined the bruises on her arms and the skin under her nails. She splashed water into her face and smoothed her blonde hair where it was mussed from being pressed into the couch. She turned the volume down on her phone and played back the recording. She skipped past the Peterson contract part and listened to the parts where she clearly said no and he ignored her. She emailed the file to his business email address and copied her personal email. She had him. She waited until he came and lightly tapped on the door.

"Can you come out here and talk to me?" he asked through the door.

"I'll be with you in a minute Ben. Pour yourself another drink and have a seat. You are going to need it." She said it with strength and power. Her heart pounded with excitement now but she kept it out of her tones. A middle-aged millionaire basically just handed himself up to her on a silver platter. Possibilities were flying into her thought process from a hundred different directions and she tried to organize them as quickly as possible and focus on her most immediate concerns. When she thought she had a solid game plan she left the bathroom. He followed her advice as she found him sitting on the couch with a fresh drink in his hand. His pants were still undone but his cock was put away.

"Did I hear you call me Ben sweetheart?" he asked with a grin. He was holding a sandwich bag full of ice up to his eye.

"I own you now Ben. I will call you anything I want." He snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You wanted it as bad as I did."

"No Ben. I didn't. If that is what you plan on telling the police when they get here I suggest you make up a better story because they are not going to believe that one."

"Police? There's no need for all that now, damn."

"You have alcohol on your breath and scratches on your face from where I tried to take your eyes out, I have your skin and blood under my fingernails, I have a cunt full of your DNA." She raised her arms to show him the bruises on her forearms where he batted her hands away and around her wrists where he held her down. "And I believe these are what they call defensive wounds on the police shows on television. Are you starting to understand how fucked you are Ben?"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Ben set his drink on the smoked glass coffee table and rose to his feet with a stern expression on his face. "Now goddamn it, don't go all crazy on me. If I misread the situation I am sorry. I thought you were interested in me. You know you've always had a little crush on old Uncle Ben."

"Never in my short innocent life did the possibility of this happening ever cross my mind. Not only have I never had a crush on you but you have always been sexually invisible to me. I'm an eighteen year old girl Ben. You were a father figure to me. I looked to you for guidance in life, protection, employment. Never this. Now sit the fuck down and I will go over your options for you."

"Jesus Christ," he said. He was obviously shocked by her tone and change in demeanor.

"He's on my side here. So you understand how completely fucked you are, check your email, right now."

Aaah memories! She smiled at the shell of the man who raped her that day. In a few months she would be twenty, in a year she would graduate with her bachelor's degree. She was in the process of transferring what remained of his wealth into her name but it took time and lawyers were slow. She made him give the majority of the stock in his property management firm, and most of the out of area properties to his wife. All that remained to him now were about fifteen local properties; single family homes, small apartment complexes, and two commercial locations. His income from just these was still phenomenal but she made him live on a fraction of it.

It took only about six months to completely cut all the ties to his old life. His wife took her fat chunk of divorce change and the kids and moved a thousand miles away. He stepped down as CEO of his company and never stepped foot in their offices again. He was not allowed to return calls to his friends and associates and they eventually stopped calling him. Even her father was cut off.

She moved him into a studio apartment in a complex he owned in a seedy part of town. She allowed him a very budgeted stipend to see to his food and other living expenses. If he ran out of shampoo or toothpaste or toilet paper he was required to let her know in advance and she would add the value of the cheapest available brand of the item to his stipend and then he was not allowed to get more of that for a certain amount of time.

All maintenance on the fifteen properties was to be done by him whenever possible and for that he had a work van fully stocked with tools. He was only allowed to use it for work though and she had GPS tracking installed so she could monitor his movements in the van even if she was in class. For all personal travel he was required to use public transportation.

The Mercedes she let him keep locked in a storage facility. It was to be kept spotless and it only came out when he was to drive her, and sometimes her friends, somewhere. Like now.

"So I am going to go get my hair and nails done. That should take about four hours. I don't want to see you that entire time but you are not allowed to go wait in the car either. You stay within the mall and you keep your new shoes on. Keep your phone on in case I change my mind. If anybody gives you shit you take it like the little bitch you are." "Yes Lady Rachel."