Tom and Gabby Ch. 03 - Naked Truths

Hi all. Sorry for the delay in publishing Ch.3. It's been a busy week at work and I was editorially not pleased with my story so had to keep going through and adding/removing parts. It's a bit of a transitional chapter. Thanks for all the Ch. 02 reads and upvotes.

Due to Friday's events, the weekend has been very busy. I've reflected on my night tied to Linda's desk and feel that I've scrutinised every aspect of it. I've thought back to each of the involuntary orgasms and her delight at my inability to prevent them happening. Linda was unquestionably wrong to have done what she did to me. I've wondered quietly whether my submission to her might have derived from a sense of guilt over my complacence as a wife. In a way, what happened has helped me to realise that I ought to be making more effort in my marriage.

When I'd gotten home on Friday, it had been around a quarter to midnight.

I'd made a drink for myself and sat staring at the TV screen, contemplating.

Tom had already been in bed, and I'd not wanted to wake him up. In truth, I was angry at him.

I'd firmly believed that nothing physical happened between them, knowing that Linda wouldn't have been able to keep it to herself if it had. She'd have relished describing it to me.

I'd felt old feelings resurfacing, from when Tom and I had first gotten together. I'd been a very jealous person in my youth. I'd always seen opportunities for Tom to be unfaithful to me and had wrongly accused him of infidelity multiple times. We'd had a few crazy years of 'the green eyed me', before I'd finally felt secure enough to trust him, and I'd managed to get my feelings under control. Jealousy is often an ugly emotion, and our marriage had flourished when I'd dispelled it.

On Friday night, I'd seen potential in myself to 'fly off the handle' at Tom for his night with Linda and I didn't want to prematurely instigate an argument for something as 'trivial' as conversations between him and my boss; so I chewed on it quietly instead.

I considered reporting what Linda had done to me but ultimately talked myself out of it, considering how mortified I would feel having to speak about the number of orgasms I'd endured.

I'd fallen asleep downstairs and Tom had woken me up with a coffee on Saturday morning.

He'd waited for me to become conversable before asking me if I'd managed to get my work finished the previous night. When I'd looked at him confusedly, he'd told me about Linda's insistence that it was an outstanding 'personal development project' that was overdue. I was able to imagine her saying those exact words, with a deliberate double entendre. She is a proven genius in spinning lies. Tom had felt the need to tell me that she'd also assured him that I'd insisted she meet him instead of me. Tom is usually a very perceptive person, and I didn't doubt that Linda had been convincing.

Much unlike Linda, Tom had not embellished or given much stock to Friday night. I'd tried to be casual in quizzing him about it, and the answers he'd provided appeared to be honest and detailed enough. Some of what he'd recalled had been synonymous with Linda's account of things, but Tom's version of events seemed much more platonic and much less 'fairy-tale' than hers had been. When I'd asked if he'd exchanged numbers with her, he'd denied it and offered his phone for me to check. I'd declined to, believing him completely.

He'd laughed when I'd told him that Linda seemed to think they were flirting with each other and had insisted that he'd have rather spent the evening with me.

He'd made an offhand comment that I'd probably been having more fun with my 'overdue personal development project' than he'd had with Linda.

Perhaps this would have been the chance to have told him about what Linda had done to me, but in my own stupid mind, I'd felt that I should focus on repairing problems in our marriage instead of adding to them. I'd not wanted Tom to push me into reporting Linda either.

I'd made peace in my mind with the idea of Linda's penance being served in the knowledge that Tom would never choose her over me. I'd been on my best wifely behaviour for the weekend to reinforce this. On Saturday, I'd suggested Tom and I go for a day out together, which he'd seemed pleasantly surprised by. We'd gone for a coffee together in town and I'd taken the opportunity to quiz him about work. He'd talked about his need for more clients and though I'd been somewhat bored by it, I'd listened and tried to contribute regardless.

On Sunday, I'd resurrected our sex life. I'd made the time to groom myself, including shaving my legs, which Linda had described as a point of contention for him. I had come downstairs from the bath and seductively lain my legs across him to display their pristine condition. He'd complimented me and I'd felt attractive.

I'd then suggested we go upstairs together, making it abundantly clear what I was hinting at. I've never really been an initiator of sex, but I'd felt compelled to. Tom had apologised profusely and told me he had to go to the gym. I'd been disappointed but understood his commitment to his fitness.

I'd posed on the bed when he'd come out of the gym, hoping he'd ravish me. When he'd come into the bedroom to get clean clothes, he'd breathlessly asked me what I was doing, and I'd donned my best 'fuck me' face.

He'd apologised again and told me that he needed to shower and grab a protein shake.

I'd gotten up from the bed, trying to hide my rejection and gone downstairs to make the shake for him.

By the evening, I'd been getting a bit desperate, and defied my naturally submissive nature for the sake of making myself feel better. I'd dropped to my knees in front of Tom while he'd been watching boxing. He'd tried to make excuses as I'd wrangled his trousers and boxers down his legs.

I'd been determined to please him. Normally, I'll admit to not going the 'whole way down' his length, but on Sunday, I'd slurped my way down his inches, regardless of personal discomfort, gagging loudly. As I'd teased his cock, I'd found myself thinking about how Linda might do it differently, if she were given the chance.

The image of her sucking him hungrily had made me want to exceed my previous standards.

Tom hadn't objected to my renewed interest in pleasuring him, and after fifteen minutes of slobbering and choking myself on his shaft, he'd sprayed a hot load of cum into my throat.

Afterwards, he'd mumbled that he loved me, before putting his cock back into his boxers and offering to give me an orgasm in return. I'd declined and let him continue watching the boxing match.

It's now Monday morning and the weekend with Tom has made me feel better. I am confident that our marriage will survive Linda's attempts to damage it.

I've dressed myself impeccably instead of heeding her instructions. To flaunt my decision, I plan to walk right past her office and let her see me. I'm hoping she sees my rebellion as proof that I won't submit to her. If she hopes to repeat Friday's debauchery to me, the office will be full of potential witnesses. It'd be stupid to try, and she's definitely not stupid.

Tom's eating his breakfast when I arrive downstairs. He looks up at me and appears to do a double take.

"Wow," he comments. "Look at you!"

I giggle and spin for him, allowing him to see my tight-fitting dress and the way it hugs my figure. I admittedly don't have Linda's magazine cover physique or round bust, but I've dressed up what I do have.

"You look great," he says then thinks. "But don't you think it's a bit...dressy for work?" he frowns.

I narrow my eyes at him.

"Not really," I retort. "If you saw some of the stuff Linda wears to work, you'd think I'm auditioning to be a nun."

He laughs awkwardly. "Yes, I suppose so. But she is your boss. Being a boss usually comes with a higher level of privilege. And I'm not talking about Linda, I'm talking about you."

I shake my head at him in disbelief.

"Gabby, I'm not saying you don't look nice," he explains. "I just don't want you getting in trouble because you're wearing something that your boss may disapprove of. It's up to you. Wear whatever you want." I stay silent.

"I've got to go to work," he resigns, sensing my disappointment and standing from the table. "Hopefully I'm wrong. I'll see you later."

He kisses me on the cheek and leaves.

I quickly eat breakfast, then gather my bag and lunch and set off for work myself.

When I arrive at the office, it's closer to nine o'clock than is usual for me and I don't have time to do my 'point proving strut'.

I see Linda through her slatted blinds, staring out at me.

I head for my workspace and put my bag down on my chair before turning my computer on.

The internal phone on my desk begins to ring and I see from the information window that it's Linda's office calling me.

I stall to answer, hoping she'll give up. She doesn't. When I do answer, Linda speaks coldly.

"Get to my office now," she orders.

"Bear with me a minute," I reply, adamant that she won't rush me.

"No," she cuts me off. "Get in here right now. I'm typing out an email to management, with a video of you attached. If you take too long, I might accidentally press send."

She hangs up.

Did I hear her correctly? My blood runs cold. Is she resorting to blackmailing me now?

The thought of my naked body forms in my mind, writhing and squirming as I'm made to orgasm against my will.

I envision management watching a video of me in that state and my cheeks flush scarlet.

I abandon my workspace and head to Linda's office urgently. I knock on the door.

She commands me to enter, and I step in, tentatively.

Linda is standing, leaned against her desk, with her phone in one hand and a cup in the other.

"Can I come in?" I stammer.

"Yes," she snaps frostily. "Close the door behind you."

I obey her.

"Busy weekend?" she asks, glaring furiously at me. I gulp.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," I answer, evasively.

"Anything that I should know about?" she challenges.

"Know about?" I stall, before answering. "No."

Linda hums to herself and stands straight, looking right at me. Her eyes scan up and down my clothes. I'm filled with a sense of dread.

She begins to walk towards me, slowly, changing her demeanour on her route.

When she reaches me, she circles around me, like a shark.

"You've made an effort with your appearance this morning, haven't you?" she comments.

I feel her touch the material of my dress by my hips and I tense.

Linda moves round to face me again and nods her head.

"What did Tom say when he saw you like this?" she asks.

"He wanted to fuck me, but was running late for work," I lie, thinking disappointedly back to Tom's real response.

"Oh did he?" she smiles and takes a sip of her drink.

Without warning, Linda throws the contents of her cup at me. I jump backwards to avoid being covered but the coffee still hits me, and immediately stains the white chiffon bodice of my dress.

"How clumsy of me," she utters, completely disingenuous, as she smirks and admires the damage.

I try to dab the liquid away with my hands but know already that my outfit and all my effort is ruined.

"You haven't got a change of clothes with you today, have you?" Linda cuts in.

"No," I reply, furiously. "But it's no problem, I'll just pop home and get changed. I'll only be about half an hour."

"You're not going anywhere," she retorts. "I knew you'd try some sort of rebellion, so I came prepared."

She turns and walks to her desk to retrieve a carrier bag, which she brings over to me. She passes it to me with a false smile.

I peer into the bag and see an assortment of clothes inside. I instinctively know that they're awful.

"Just strip off and change here," she informs me. "You've nothing to hide. I've seen it all already."

I strain to answer but her expression warns me not to protest.

I put the bag down onto the ground and pull out a shabby pair of jogging bottoms, at least two sizes too big and an ugly faded t-shirt. When I shake them, I see that both garments have charity shop tags attached. Beneath them sits another crime against fashion, waiting to be the pulled from the bag. I place the clothes and carrier bag back down on the floor.

"Can you hurry up? I want to check they fit you," Linda goads me, and returns to her desk to take a seat.

I begin to unbutton my dress and turn away from her.

"I don't think so," she calls over. "Turn back around."

I take a deep breath before turning back to her, avoiding any eye contact and continue to undress.

I slip my dress from my shoulders and reach for the t-shirt.

"I told you not to wear a bra today," she comments.

I swallow.

"Those tiny little tits hardly need supporting, do they? Get that bra off now. Or should I do it for you," she threatens, starting to stand from her chair.

I reach behind myself and unclasp the hooks. I take my bra off slowly and Linda lets out a sadistic laugh as my chest is bared.

I want to cover myself and so pull the t-shirt on quickly. It utterly drowns my figure and makes me look completely flat chested.

I let my dress drop down my legs and step out of it to collect the jogging bottoms from the floor then pull my feet from my shoes to clumsily put them on. Linda is leant back in her chair, admiring her nails. She's ignoring me in my state of undress.

Her enjoyment is derived more from the power she has over me, and less from my naked form.

She looks up just as I tie the joggers.

"Keep going," Linda coaxes me, and with a sigh, I pull a heap of knitted material out. At some point, the item was probably a cardigan. Now it's just a mess. I can't hide my disgust.

"It's normal to thank someone when they do you a favour Gabrielle," she directs.

I look over at her, wordlessly. Why would I thank her for making me look like a jumble sale model?

She clears her throat.

"I edited nearly four hours of video footage of you over the weekend, y'know?" Linda says, addressing her earlier threat.

"Some of the orgasms you had while I was out with Tom were crazy. The expressions on your face were hilarious. I honestly thought you were possessed at one point. You were just..." she does an insulting impression of my cum face, screwing her nose up and gyrating crudely in her chair.

I look at the floor, not wanting to remember.

"I got the camera just right. Your face and upper body are all in ultra-high definition. Anyone could tell it's you. And more importantly; none of the ropes were visible," she taunts, trying to strongarm me.

I wrap the cardigan around myself and push my arms into it.

"Wait until you see the shoes I bought for you," she tells me, excitedly.

I lift the last items out of the bag. To call them shoes would be insulting. She's provided me with a pair of hideous mules, much resembling gardening shoes. I slip my them on before standing still, awaiting Linda's next exercise in humiliation. The ensemble makes me look like I've been digging through bins for clothes.

Linda stands from her seat and mimes taking photographs of me, cackling to herself, before reaching into one of her desk drawers and pulling something from it. She then strides over to me, brandishing the item. It isn't until she reaches me and rustles with a packet, that I realise what she's holding. She secures my face with her hand.

I try to struggle but her vicelike fingertips pinch my chin and the more I move, the more she digs in. She roughly scrubs my face with a cosmetic wipe, taking off all my makeup. It's a belittling experience.

"This is how I wanted you to turn up this morning," she smiles. "The next time you 'make an effort', we'll do all this again," she warns and checks her watch.

"Right," she says sharply. "Go and do some work. And yes, in case you're wondering, you look awful. You'll be the subject of all the gossip when your co-workers go on their break," she informs me.

I look at her miserably and she stares right back.

"Speaking of breaks; at lunchtime, you'll be spending your time in here with me. If I'm not here when you arrive, strip everything below your waist and lie on my desk. When I get back, I want to find you in same position you were in on Friday. Understood?" she presses.

I nod slowly.

"Fabulous. Now off you go," she dismisses me, gesturing for me to get out before returning to her desk.

I leave Linda's office and return to my workspace. I feel some of my colleagues looking at me as I walk past them. They're remiss to say anything but they're clearly noticing my extreme makeunder.

I keep my eyes down, sparing myself any further humiliation.

I try to get some work done for the rest of the morning, looking over at Linda's office more often than I'd like to admit. At one point, I see her laughing and talking on her mobile phone through the blinds.

An hour before lunch, she emerges from her office and closes the door.

She walks right past me, still on her phone, and loudly saying she'll meet someone 'in ten minutes'.

When lunchtime arrives, my colleagues all start leaving the office to buy themselves food.

I dutifully wait for them to go before trudging to Linda's office and letting myself in.

There's a note waiting for me on her desk, written in her looped handwriting. 'Trousers and knickers off. Lie here and wait.'

I pick the note up and rip it in half bitterly before throwing it to the floor.

Linda's got me over a barrel again. How long can this really go on for? Am I expected to do exactly what she says forever now?

I consider following her instructions for a moment, because of her alleged 'collateral' over me. I then think about the collateral itself.

I can't envision many chances to be in Linda's office without her and this could be my only opportunity to end my current predicament.

If I'm able to find and destroy the video evidence she's got, it'll remove her unfair advantage over the situation. An attempt to resolve things can't make my situation any worse, can it?

I press on her keypad to wake the computer up, and the screen lights up with the company login screen.

I don't even know Linda's username; but I try an assortment of variations until one prompts me to submit a password. I'm so pleased with myself over this small success that I don't notice her slipping into the room and silently watching me.

I look up briefly, thinking about what she might use for a password and see her. Her presence alarms me, and I startle. I can't think of anything to say to explain what I'm doing. I look around desperately for a cup or water source to throw over the computer, as another means of thwarting her plans, but nothing is to hand.

"Strip. Now." Linda commands, emotionlessly. I find her calmness more unnerving than if she'd screamed it at me.

I quickly pull my trousers and knickers down, breathing hard, not questioning her. I don't want to provoke the situation.

Linda tilts the office blinds closed before making her way over.

She looks at me with a superior stare. "Carry on," she says.

"But you said just my trousers and..." I try to argue but she interrupts.

"And obviously my generosity wasn't good enough for you. So now I'm saying take everything off. Then get up onto the desk," she retorts.

I awkwardly take the cardigan and t-shirt off and clamber up onto the oak desk, inelegantly.

I lie flat and watch her move around.

She drops her handbag and a brown paper bag down into her chair and then busies herself with retrieving the vibrating wand from its hiding place and plugging it in. I gulp.

"I just had a gorgeous lunch," Linda brags, delightedly. "Tom suggested we go to a café he likes. Then afterwards, we had a wander round town together. There were a few things I wanted."