Tom and Gabby Ch. 02 - Linda's Plan

Thanks to everyone that read/upvoted the first chapter. Hope you enjoy the next installation. There's plenty more to come (whether Gabrielle likes it or not) ;).

I feel like I'm waiting an eternity for Linda to return. The wand she fixed in place between my legs has been whirring constantly since she left. It's caused me to have six excruciatingly intense orgasms.

I didn't want any of them, of course, but the choice had been removed from me.

I'd tried to be quiet for the first couple, for fear of being overheard and discovered, but by the third, I'd screamed out loud, not caring anymore.

In the time between orgasms, I've imagined what Linda and Tom might be doing together. I confess myself disappointed at Linda not returning soon after departing, having failed to impress my husband.

I'd have loved to see her rejected and humbled. I can only surmise that because this hadn't happened, an enjoyable time is being had. Tom and Linda are together somewhere, having drinks, conversations and god knows what else while I'm stuck here, bound to Linda's desk, orgasming involuntarily and unable to change the situation.

Linda waltzes back into her office at a few minutes past eleven. She doesn't feel it necessary to speak to me initially, treating me like an inanimate object and seeming more concerned with taking her coat off and putting her bag down.

She takes her phone out of the pocket before draping the coat over her chair and smiles widely as she studies her phone screen. I watch her tap something out.

I don't concern myself with being polite to her, and bellow loudly for her to 'fucking untie me now'.

Linda ignores my request and instead raises her eyebrows at me, slowly shaking her head.

"Don't be rude Gabrielle," she warns me.

She stretches her arms up and makes a little noise.

"What a night," she expresses happily. I unsurprisingly don't share her enthusiasm.

My mind is working overtime, trying to decide what she means. What happened between her and Tom? I feel nauseous as I think about some of the possibilities.

"How was your time here while I was gone?" she enquires, a sadistic smirk forming on her lips.

I have to bite my tongue to stop myself shouting abuse at her. She's at a clear advantage over me.

She appears to check I'm not going to say anything before speaking. "I'll see for myself later."

I spin my head to look confusedly at her, checking I heard correctly.

She stares back. "Did I forget to mention that I was recording you?" she reveals, flippantly.

Bile rises in my throat. I hate Linda more intensely than I've ever hated anyone before.

After everything she's done to me this evening, I think I'd be justified in this, but her revelation galvanises my feelings. What could she gain from recording me? Surely video evidence of me restrained on her desk would benefit me, and not her.

I set to figuring out how she's managed to record me and frantically look around for a camera, as she begins speaking.

"Tom looked gorgeous," Linda begins. "I think every woman in the bar, and probably a few men, wanted to go home with him tonight," she describes. "I'll admit, he was a bit surprised when I arrived instead of you, but I explained that you were 'tied up' with work and had sent me in your place. I know it's technically a white lie, but I'm sure Tom will find it funny when I tell him," she divulges.

I've seen Linda manipulate the truth many times while dealing with clients in her work. Mistruths come very easily to her. I'm more concerned about my husband's failure to question her lies. Surely he'd have known that I'd die before sending Linda to meet him.

"He did suggest calling to check on you," she teases. "But I persuaded him not to. I wasn't going to let you interrupt us again. Not that you'd have been able to answer," she sniggers, then continues recalling the night's events to me.

"The Black Star is quite a nice place, isn't it? Tom paid for a nice meal for us both; we shared a bottle of wine and talked," she describes. I listen carefully, trying to pick up any undertones.

"Tom actually did most of the talking. And the more he said, the more I saw that he really isn't happy with you. He tried to be polite about it at first but then it all came pouring out."

I consider what she's saying for a moment before awkwardly needing to submit to the vibrations again.

Linda had purposefully left the wand in place for our 'talk'. Maybe she felt that I'd be less able to argue with it on?

I clamp my eyes closed and try to disguise my rapidly building pleasure from her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," her voice sounds clearly, and she moves along her desk to watch my orgasm from the 'business end'. "Don't let me interrupt you," she encourages.

The orgasm builds quickly, and another round of crippling pleasure subdues me, causing me to moan out gracelessly.

Linda patiently waits for me to recover, and when I open my eyes, shaken by another involuntary climax, she's leaning over me, peering between my thighs to see the state of my pussy. I feel her slowly push a couple of her fingers inside and I groan. It doesn't hurt, I'm far too wet for that, but I don't want her thinking that I've consented to or enjoyed anything about tonight.

"Wow," she comments as she retracts her fingers back out again. They're slick and glistening with my juices and after looking at them disgustedly, she wipes the residue across my naked thigh.

"It looks like Tom and me weren't the only ones who had a good time," she remarks, smarmily.

"Now where was I?" she thinks, keen to keep tormenting me.

"Oh yes," she remembers. "I was telling you how unhappy Tom is. I'd expect you to know these things as his wife but clearly, he doesn't want to talk to you. I feel like I'm breaking his confidence by telling you, but he hates how you fuck like an old married couple now," she shakes her head disapprovingly.

"Added to that, he can't forgive you for asking him to leave the army and resents how boring you are. The way he tells it, you don't want to do anything exciting with him anymore and have basically stopped trying in the marriage. I laughed when he told me, and thought he was joking when he said that half the time, you can't even be bothered to shave your legs or make yourself look nice for him." She runs a hand up and down my less than smooth calves and tuts. "Apparently not."

I'm obviously upset by what I'm hearing, but it's made worse by the fact Linda is the one saying it.

When she'd started talking, I'd decided to be cautious about what she was telling me. Without Tom's version of events, I'd promised myself to not take her recollection as gospel. Despite this, her use of private details makes her account more believable.

I had asked Tom to leave the army. He'd done everything he'd wanted to do, including two tours of duty. I'd also become homesick after years of living away. It'd been his decision ultimately, but I'd helped to influence it.

The issue always resurfaces during arguments between us, and Tom often reminds me of what I asked of him. Reintegration into normal life was difficult for him, yes, but I refuse to accept all the blame for it.

I feel like he's disclosed a secret to Linda by telling her this. It's our business, not hers.

"There's obviously a lot of issues between you," she resumes. "I was happy to listen and offer impartial advice."

I almost laugh at her use of the word impartial. She's working to her own agenda. I doubt anything she said to him was without bias.

"Tom said that his personal training business is doing well. It was the only thing he seemed happy talking about. He's got so much passion for fitness. Have you looked at his biceps recently?" She mimes fanning herself.

"I promised that I'll give him a few tips about how to grow his business next time I see him. Is it true what he told me about you never wanting to talk about his work? I think you've made this choice really easy for him," she gloats shamelessly.

From her comment, I suspect that Linda has never been in a long-term relationship.

The niceties don't last forever. Sometimes, one half of a couple doesn't want to listen to the other one harping on about work, with freshly shaved legs. Especially when they've had a hard day at work themselves. Sometimes it's okay to be a bit selfish and just want to watch television instead of conversing or having sex. I don't think I'd be the first wife in history to say this.

I take great offence to the way Linda portrays me as a neglectful wife, who is incapable of making her husband happy. She's formed this totally unfounded opinion of me to support her claim to my husband.

Despite knowing it, I feel a pang of worry. Maybe there is room for improvement in Tom and my marriage? Especially now I know that Linda's vying for his affections. I try to ignore her and think of ways that I can convince Tom that we are happy together. Before my boss can convince him otherwise.

Linda watches the damage her words are having on me before carrying on.

"After we'd had a couple of drinks, we started talking about sex," she boasts.

"I asked Tom what he'd be looking for if he wasn't stuck with you and he basically described me. He specifically said he'd be looking for a woman with blonde hair, big tits and a slim figure. Someone who could meet his needs sexually was high up on his list too. Apparently, he's got an insatiable appetite and fucking four times a day would be considered slow going. He looked me right in the eyes when he told me, with this sexy smile on his face. He clearly knew he was getting me wet," she grins, arrogantly.

Linda runs her hand down her body and loops it under her skirt. I watch the fabric moving as her hand finds its way between her legs. She holds it there for a few seconds before pulling it out and brings it up to my mouth. I can't clamp my jaw closed in time, and she pushes two fingers in, rubbing her arousal into my gums.

I instinctively lick and my tongue is coated with her raw earthy taste. I've never tasted a pussy before, and I'm not impressed. I curl my nose, slapping my lips together in disapproval. She flashes her eyes at me and sticks her tongue out mischievously.

"Do you think Tom will like it?" she taunts, smugly. "I bet he's good with his tongue."

I refuse to confirm or deny her suspicions.

"I don't suppose I'll have to wait long to find out. He knows that I want him and from the bulging in his jeans when he was eyeing up my tits, he wants me just as much," she tells me, without hesitation.

I quietly sigh with relief. Linda has just given away an important detail without knowing it. Nothing physical happened between her and my husband tonight.

"Tom didn't fuck me tonight, Gabrielle," she confirms, so astutely that I wonder if I've spoken my thoughts aloud without knowing it.

"Don't get me wrong, we're going to fuck. The first time we do will probably be the most mind-blowing fuck either me or him have ever had. But it hasn't happened yet," she assures me.

I try to see the situation positively and take comfort in the possibility that I might be able to stop Linda's plans before they happen. Words exchanged between them are easier to amend than bodily fluids shared between them.

Linda expands on her point, determined that I don't misunderstand her, obviously recognising my relief.

"When Tom fucks me for the first time, I'm going to make sure you're in the room with us, watching it all happen," she reveals, sadistically. I open my mouth to speak but no words come out. Linda continues.

"It makes me physically excited to think of you being forced to experience it with us. Of course, we'll make sure you're not able to do anything to ruin it for us. We'll probably make it so that you're not even able to move, but I'll make sure you can see his cock sliding into me and hear us both moaning with pleasure. It's going to be like live porn," she depicts in painful detail. To me, it sounds like hell, but Linda looks delirious.

"I don't know whether I'm more looking forward to Tom fucking me, or the woman who's about to be replaced as his wife, having to watch it happen," she explains.

I'm totally bemused. I don't think I've ever done anything to upset or offend Linda. Why does she want to torture me like this? She's clearly sadistic and perverted.

"I want it all to happen soon," she declares. "So, I'd appreciate your help to hurry things along a bit."

"No," I say uncompromisingly.

Linda laughs. "I wasn't asking," she replies authoritatively. "All you need to do is what you've been doing for the past ten years. With a few little 'tweaks' to help Tom make the right choice."

I shake my head vehemently, refusing to agree. Is she so narcissistic that she thinks I'll help her steal my husband?

Linda tuts again. She moves round to the side of the table and takes manual control of the wand vibrator, which she moves onto my clit again, forcing me back into squealing submission.

"I wanted this to be amicable, Gabrielle, but you're pushing me to do it this way. Just give up. You can't win this. What's going to happen is going to happen. I'm far too stubborn and you're far too passive for it to go any other way. So, you're going to do exactly what I tell you, and everything is going to work out. Okay?"

I garble out some gibberish, completely incapacitated at her hands again. She seems to accept my response.

"If you take nothing else from tonight, take this. Tom is sexually off limits to you now," she decrees. I thrash against the wand.

"You won't be engaging in any intimacy with him ever again. If he suggests fucking, blowjobs or anything else that involves his cock, you're going to refuse. I don't care how you do it. You can make excuses if you want, or just flat out turn him down. It's not your job anymore and I don't want you to confuse things for him," she orders me.

She presses the wand down harder until I make a ghastly noise to acknowledge her.

I'm not able to physically do much more than this.

"Don't worry about offending him. I'll make him feel better. You're basically going to sabotage your marriage from the inside. While I show him how much better life can be with me, you're going to be helping him realise how terrible you are as a wife. You won't even need to try hard to do it. The next time I see Tom, I'll expect to hear all about it," she describes. I hear her words but can't argue back. She has me exactly how she wants me.

"Tom's obviously a very sexual person. He already needs more than you're giving him, and by taking that away, you're going to drive him straight to me. Until he's with me, he'll have to take care of his urges by himself.

We exchanged numbers and I'll make sure he's well supplied with wanking material. If you insist on sharing a bed with him for the limited time you have left, don't be surprised if you're woken up by him moaning in the middle of the night. Give him his privacy and let him wank off over pictures of me. It'll only be a temporary problem."

"Linda," I plead desperately, sensing that I'm fast approaching yet another climax. I'm doing everything I can to prevent it happening. "Please stop."

"No," she responds, noticing the signs of my impending orgasm and recognising my attempts to stop it.

"Please?" I choke out.

"It's nice to hear you begging. It's something you should get used to. Tonight is the start of the end for you and Tom. My most insincere condolences. I'm going to tip your life upside down and there's nothing you can do about it. All you can do is submit. And orgasm. Speaking of orgasming; stop trying to fight it, Gabrielle. It's going to happen whether you want it to or not. Just let it out," Linda commands.

Tom used to love controlling my pleasure and I trusted him enough to let him. I used to love submitting to him and letting him decide when I could climax; sometimes after prolonged teasing. Hearing Linda calling the shots now is vastly different, but my body seems to betray me and allows the words she's using to trigger me.

I orgasm violently at her command.

She doesn't wait for my afterglow to pass to continue talking this time.

"I'll let you go home soon," she tells me.

"But before I do, I want to explain to you what I expect from you on Monday," she clears her throat.

"You're going to be adhering to a new dress code from now on. Take some time over the weekend to clear out all your typical office attire, you won't be needing it anymore. Starting next week, you're going to be wearing the scruffiest clothes you can find. You're going to take pride in looking completely awful when you come into work. I'm talking baggy jogging bottoms; old, faded t-shirts and trainers. I don't particularly care what you wear, provided you look like a homeless person. You're not going to waste time on trying to look good anymore. Are you listening?" she demands.

I peel my eyes open to look at her.

"Don't bother with wearing a bra either. With those tiny tits, you really don't need one. Throw all your makeup away; you're not going to wear it anymore. I want you to be your total, authentic self. I'll be happy if you literally roll out of bed and come to work." I frown, not seeing the point to this demand.

"Before you leave the house; make sure you let Tom see you and really soak the sight in. If he wants an explanation, tell him to text me," she grins. "Anything you're not clear on?" she checks, and I slowly shake my head. Her motive becomes clear, but I don't have the energy to argue. I just want to go home now. I'm tired and humiliated.

Linda reaches for the rope around one of my wrists and loosens it, allowing me to slip my hand out. She repeats this with my other wrist before freeing my ankles. I sit up and wait for her to move the vibrating wand from between my legs. She's slow to do this, but eventually turns it off and unplugs it, then places it back into her desk drawer with a smile.

I arrange my underwear to cover myself, then climb from the desk clumsily. My legs are like jelly. I've lost count of how many orgasms I've been subjected to tonight.

I see my pile of clothes on the floor and look to Linda quickly to ensure she's happy for me to put them back on. I realise that I've done it and am disappointed in myself for my submission. Why am I cooperating with her when the wand isn't even on me anymore?

I dress myself quickly and then pick up my handbag from beside her desk. When I look back to Linda, she's smiling at her phone screen, unconcerned about me.

I don't feel a need to speak to her and make my way to the office door, clutching my bag and clothes tightly.

"Enjoy your weekend, Gabrielle," Linda calls as I reach it. "We'll talk on Monday. And before you think of doing anything stupid, think of the consequences."

I don't reply, perhaps fearful that she might change her mind about letting me leave, and I hurry through the door, not looking back once.

I make my way to my car and begin my short drive home, analysing the events of the night.

I need to think carefully about how to deal with this situation; my marriage is now depending on it.

To be continued.