Tom and Gabby Ch. 01 - Meet My Boss

My first story submission. The beginning of a long English language saga, currently being penned. All feedback welcomed. And yes, if I can find a way to say things with lots of words, I do. Detail is never a bad thing. ;)

I rue the day I agreed to go to the last office Christmas party. I'm not a very sociable person by nature. I don't particularly enjoy being around people. I'm happy with my 'boring life' with my husband. As far as I thought, he was happy with it too.

Tom and I have been married for ten years now. We don't have children; it wasn't something we ever wanted to do together. We enjoy our life unencumbered; free to pursue our own interests without worrying about dependants.

In our eleven years together, we've had plenty of excitement. Tom's army career was a multitude of adventures for us both. Now he's back on civilian street, things have calmed down for us.

Tom's army career had prevented me from working steadily, as we'd always needed to be ready for redeployments and I couldn't commit to indefinite periods of time in one place to work.

Now Tom's out of the army, I am working. I've been an admin assistant at a HR company for two years now, while Tom's built up a personal training business. Tom's an insanely active person. He enjoys bodybuilding and has the physique one would expect of such a man. I've always been a more sedentary creature by nature and am happy with a plate of good food and something entertaining to watch on television. Despite this, Tom and I work well together.

Having gotten together young, Tom and I have also experienced the ups and downs of passion in our marriage; and we're now in a permanent 'down' phase. Neither of us have the energy anymore to pursue the games and frivolities that we used to enjoy. Bondage and submission were our mutual interests when we got together.

Tom loved to dominate me. I loved to submit to him.

Sadly, as time has passed, our long, drawn-out sex sessions have been whittled down to fifteen-minute affairs, less about copious amounts of pleasure; more a matter of 'getting the job done'. Work and the business of life are to blame.

I know Tom misses the excitement we used to have, but he no longer complains about it, and I think he's accepted that we're not 'young' anymore.

The office Christmas party I previously mentioned was an awful event. The year before, I'd managed to escape having to attend it, but this Christmas just gone, it'd been made to feel mandatory to attend.

I'd managed to convince Tom to go with me and had appreciated his presence.

The party had been full of people that I have to spend my workdays with, none of whom I particularly enjoy spending time with. My boss, Linda had been there too, of course.

I don't like Linda. I can't find any redeeming qualities about her. She's a slim, blonde woman, who is far more concerned about how she looks than I believe is healthy. I've always cared more about what is in my head than how it looks to others. We're stark opposites.

Linda has somehow found her way into HR management, and I reserve judgement that this isn't because of her talent and instead because of her ability to schmooze and manipulate people.

She's very attractive, I'll admit to that. In a totally superficial meaning of the word. I'm sure if I were to ask any woman if they'd like to look like Linda, they'd say yes.

She has dark brown eyes, flawless skin, and a magazine cover physique. I couldn't dislike someone sheerly based on the way they look, but I find her vanity to be a deep character flaw.

Linda seems to find it a compliment when eyes are drawn to her huge round breasts, which she swears are natural. They're a far cry from my own meagre chest.

I don't find Linda to be a nice person either. She's never paid much attention to me at work, luckily, but I've been told that her vengeances against people have been harsh and cruel. The people she surrounds herself with appear to be false, and only friends with her for personal career gain. I could be wrong about this, but I doubt it.

I've always tried to minimise contact with her as much as possible; feeling I have nothing to gain from befriending her.

After we'd arrived at the aforementioned Christmas party, Tom and I had gone straight to the bar and indulged in a free drink each.

We'd found a quiet corner to stand and talk in and had been having a perfectly fine time, until a group of my colleagues; women who never normally made conversation with me had suddenly felt the need to initiate social contact with me, and pulled me away from Tom, towards the dancefloor.

They'd all been half drunk and had insisted on me dancing with them, and when I'd managed to look back towards Tom; wanting him to rescue me, I'd seen him embroiled in conversation with my boss, Linda.

I'd made several attempts to get away from my colleagues, but they'd blatantly refused to let me return to my husband, standing in the way and almost physically holding me from escaping.

When I'd finally managed to slip from them and walked back over to Tom, Linda was still conversing with him.

I could see from her demeanour, the way she kept playing with her hair and pushing her bust out that she was flirting with him. Tom had smiled when I'd returned whereas Linda had looked sideways at me, as if I was an unwanted presence.

I'd made our excuses and we'd left the party soon after, not something that Tom appeared to mind.

I'd grumbled to him about Linda's motives during the drive home, and he'd laughed, dismissing it as nothing. Tom had been well used to my jealousy through our marriage. We'd said no more about the night since then.

I'd heard at work that Linda had spoken quite extensively about my husband as the party had gone on.

She'd been overheard drunkenly claiming that he 'deserved better than me', and that a man like him was 'wasted' on me. I'd risen above her petty comments.

The issue had always been a point of contention between Tom and me. I've always felt that I'm the one 'punching above my weight' in appearance standards. Tom has always laughed this sentiment off and silenced me by saying he loves me, so why should it matter. In our younger years, he'd always received an abundance of female attention, which I'd always been conscious of. He'd proven himself loyal to me, but I'd be lying if I said I missed the days of him getting unwanted attention.

In the months since the Christmas party, Linda has made a few 'less than subtle' comments about my husband, but I'm not a confrontational person by nature and I've refrained from reacting.

I've remained quietly confident in the knowledge that their meeting was a one-time thing and won't be repeated.

My current predicament is not where I thought I'd be on a Friday night.

I'm more annoyed because Tom and I have arranged to go out for a few drinks together tonight, to break the monotony of our TV and homecooked meal habit.

Instead, I'm lying naked on Linda's desk, tied down and unable to free myself.

Linda is circling the desk, smirking widely.

I got into this position because of my own stupidity. I'd brought clothes with me to change into, with the intention of meeting Tom in town, straight from work. When five o'clock had arrived and my colleagues had all started leaving, I'd gone to the staff toilets to change.

I'd been quite liberal in changing, feeling that I wouldn't be disturbed.

I had undressed down to my bra and knickers and left my clothes on the sink, both my work clothes and my 'date night' clothes, while I quickly used the toilet.

When I'd come out of the cubicle, I'd been horrified to find that my clothes had disappeared from the sink.

I'd stood for a few seconds in my underwear, wondering if I'd imagined the entire thing, and searching the other cubicles desperately. When it became clear that my clothes weren't in the room, I'd opened the toilet door and looked around the office floor desperately.

I couldn't see anybody around, and so, covering myself as much as possible, I'd snuck out and gone over to my workspace to get my coat, which I knew to be over the back of my chair.

When I'd reached my chair, my coat had been removed and my handbag was also missing.

I'd looked around frantically, checking for anyone watching, almost expecting to find a gaggle of giggling bullies holding my clothes, like the ones I'd endured in school as a teenager.

Nobody was around.

I'd looked desperately over at Linda's office, where the light had been on.

I'd stood for a few seconds, hiding my lack of clothes behind my chair, wondering if she'd seen anyone mistakenly carrying them.

I'd sworn to see her looking out at me but knew that I was probably imagining it in my state of panic.

As I'd stood, deliberating on what to do, Linda's office door had opened, and she'd postured herself with a hand on her hip. "Gabrielle?" she'd asked, curiously. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Nothing," I'd replied, not wanting to speak to her in my moment of need. "There's been a bit of a misunderstanding. You haven't seen anyone carrying a pile of clothes, have you?" I'd asked.

"No, I haven't seen anyone," she'd responded.

"I was getting changed in the toilets, and someone's taken my clothes," I'd explained, though not wanting to.

"Why were you getting changed in the toilets?" Linda had deigned to ask. The question had irritated me greatly, but I'd not shown it.

"I'm going for drinks with Tom tonight," I'd divulged, taking the rare opportunity to show her how happy my marriage is.

She'd nodded. "You're not really dressed to go out for drinks, are you?"

Her statement had been ridiculous. I'd wanted to snap at her but had quickly realised that she might be able to help me.

"I don't suppose you've got a coat or something that I could put on?" I'd asked.

"You want to meet Tom in my coat?" she'd stupidly asked.

"No," I'd answered slowly. "I'd like to borrow your coat while I find my own clothes. My handbag's missing too."

She'd shaken her head and gone back into her office, turning her back on me.

Her reaction had angered me. I hadn't wanted to need her help, but on appealing for it, she'd totally ignored me.

I'd looked around again, checking for onlookers and then darted across the work floor, dodging desks and chairs, into her office.

When I'd gotten inside, I'd found her leaning against her desk, on her phone. She'd looked up at me briefly and then back to her phone. Behind her, on the desk, sat a pile of clothes and a handbag that I'd instantly recognised to be mine.

"Linda?" I'd marvelled. "Why are my clothes and bag on your desk?"

She'd looked up and smiled at me. Her reaction confirmed that this was no accident, but her motive had been unclear. What had been her plan?

I'd quickly stormed over to the desk, angry and confused by her trick. As I'd walked over, I'd felt her eyeing me up and down and I'd felt vulnerable.

I'd set to digging through the pile of clothes, not speaking, furious at her.

"What do you think you're doing?" she'd asked testily, wrangling my arm to stop me.

"Fuck off Linda, the joke's over," I'd retorted, impatiently.

"I think you'll find the joke is your marriage. And it will be over soon," she'd replied.

I'd answered angrily, not wanting to waste any time arguing with her. "I've had enough of this now. If you try to stop me, I swear, I'll call the police."

Linda had laughed loudly.

"Don't be so dramatic," she'd snapped. "The police have got far more important things to deal with than your inadequacy as a wife."

I'd not known what to say back to her, and had frantically begun to try and dress myself, wanting to regain some dignity.

Linda had walked away from me, towards the office door and I'd heard it close.

I'd turned to face her and seen her striding back over to me, stopping when she was in front of me.

I'm at least half a foot taller than Linda, and much wider framed than she is, yet still I admit to finding her intimidating.

She'd had a dangerous glint in her eyes and without a word, had snatched my top from my grasp and thrown it to the floor.

She'd then proceeded to grab my bra straps and pulled the cups down my body roughly, exposing my humble tits.

She'd giggled manically when she'd seen my naked bust. "Poor Tom," she'd said.

I'd thrown my hands up to cover myself, but she'd slapped them away.

She had then pulled my knickers down and let them drop down my legs. I'd been left with a tough choice of what I wanted to conceal more and stood in horror, not daring to move. My knickers had served as restraints around my ankles. She'd then pushed me back against her desk, allowing me to fall clumsily onto it and had picked up my feet and spun me round, laying me flat across her desk. She'd proceeded to pace around the table, securing my limbs into rope binds, affixing me into position.

"I feel like we haven't talked much since you started working here Gabrielle," Linda says, as if we're having a friendly conversation. "To be honest, I didn't take much notice of you. That was until you arrived at the Christmas party with Tom," she continues. "Now I feel like we've got something to talk about."

I pull against the ropes, helplessly.

Years ago, Tom and I played restraint games like this, but it was always fun and sexy. I have no idea what Linda plans to do to me.

My nipples are standing on end, I can feel them. I hope she hasn't noticed.

"You never apologised for interrupting Tom and me when we were talking at the Christmas party," Linda declares and clicks her fingers in my face.

"We'd been talking about his time in the army. I wish I'd known him back then. Tom in his army uniform? Mmmm. I bet that made all the other wives wet," she imagines, lustfully. "I feel like his life's not turned out like he wanted since he came out y'know? Those were the vibes he was giving me."

I bite my tongue, not wanting to indulge her.

Tom and I have adapted well to life outside of the army. Her claims are unfounded.

"He's just got that frustrated, unfulfilled look about him. Haven't you noticed? Has he never talked to you about it?" she queries.

I turn my head away.

"Ooh, clearly I've touched a nerve," Linda pokes. "It could just be that he's missing all the excitement of army life. But it's more likely that as time's gone on, he's realised that he made a huge mistake by marrying you. He could've done a lot better for himself."

I swallow my anger, wanting to scream at her, but worrying about what the consequences might be. I'm not in a position to start conflict here; Linda has the clear advantage.

I twist to free myself but can't loosen the ropes.

"A man like Tom needs a real woman. You're not enough for him. I mean, just look at your tiny tits," she mocks and pinches one of my nipples, just hard enough to hurt.

"Have you never thought about getting implants? It's the least you could've done?" she comments "Or would that just open a whole world of problems? There'd be no point in you getting implants without having your stomach sorted. Not to mention all that cellulite."

Linda cruelly brings attention to all my body hang ups; things that Tom has never complained about. Not to me anyway. I'm aware of my physical flaws; I don't need her to remind me.

"He obviously likes big tits," she continues. "He couldn't take his eyes off mine when we were talking. Not that I minded. So, where are you supposed to be meeting him tonight?" she asks, changing the subject completely.

I glare at her and don't answer. She's openly mocking me, and expects me to answer her questions? Not likely.

"Come on Gabrielle," she coaxes.

I hate the way she uses my full name. I prefer to be known by the shortened version. My unabbreviated name always makes me think back to being in trouble when I was young.

"I'll find out one way or another," Linda threatens.

"Enough," I burst out. "You're acting crazy Linda. I don't know what your problem is or what you're trying to achieve but you need to stop now."

I don't know what I'm expecting Linda to do, but her laughter surprises me.

"I want Tom to be with the kind of woman he deserves. Someone who can satisfy him properly. Someone he can be proud to be seen with. He's exactly the kind of man I've always dreamed of being with," she explains.

"Well I'm sorry to remind you, he's married to me Linda," I argue.

"Sadly, yes. But I don't consider that to be a major obstacle. Marriages are so easily broken these days. When Tom realises that he's got another option, it'll expedite the process. And of course, I'll do whatever I can to help him realise that you're not good enough for him," she reveals.

I balk, open-mouthed at her.

"I'll ask again, in case you didn't hear me. Where are you supposed to be meeting Tom?" she questions.

I purse my lips.

Linda looks down at me, with a perfectly groomed, raised eyebrow.

"No?" she sighs.

I close my eyes, not wanting to look at her.

"Okay," she says and circles round to the back of her desk. She rummages through one of the drawers, until she finds what she's looking for and leans down to the floor.

I nervously watch her straighten and see her holding a magic wand vibrator, which she holds up into view.

Tom and I have been known to use similar devices during sex.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell me?" she asks, seeming to give me a choice.

I stare at her wide eyed, not knowing what to say or do. If she were to do something I didn't want, I'd have no way of stopping her; I'm bound tight.

She takes my silence as a refusal and powers the wand on, before bringing it down to my pussy, and pressing it between my lips.

I shriek loudly and buck, trying to dislodge it, but she's persistent, and moves the head around until it sits flush against my clit. The pleasure is overwhelming; too much. I arch my back and my face contorts. I can only imagine how awful I must look.

"Where are you supposed to be meeting Tom?" she asks again, calm and composed.

"Please," I wail out, manically, not able to keep still.

"Answer the question," she informs me.

I thrash around, trying to break contact between the wand and my clit, unsuccessfully.

"Or just keep bucking around...it's your choice," she says, emotionlessly. "I always get what I want Gabrielle."

Her words echo in my ears, and I feel a familiar wave start to build up in my pussy.

My legs tense rigidly, and I bite my lip. She's going to make me orgasm. I don't want to, but I can't help it.

The vibrations suddenly stop, and I gasp loudly. My build up stops abruptly. I didn't want to orgasm, but the sudden halting of it is frustrating all the same.

"Not yet..." she comments, smugly. "Where are you supposed to be meeting Tom?" she repeats.

I consider giving her a false answer. How would she know if I lied to her?

The choice is taken away from me as she brings the wand back down and I'm overcome again. I'm rendered incapable of thought.

I vocalise, not able to control myself.

"Come on Gabrielle," Linda sighs, watching my body's reaction to the vibrations.

I feel her spread my pussy open with her long-nailed fingers, fully exposing my most sensitive spot. She presses the wand down and I scream.

"Where are you supposed to be meeting Tom?" she demands, more aggressively this time.

I wriggle around desperately.

"Answer the question," she instructs, coldly.

The pleasure is too much. I can't take it.

I'm not in control of my own faculties. My mouth moves without me knowing it, desperate to make the debilitating sensation stop. I submit to Linda without knowing or wanting to.

"The Black Star," I cry out, panting.

"Thank you," Linda exhales.

She begins to circle the wand around between my pussy lips, and I feel myself starting to build up again.