tagNonConsent/ReluctanceBrenda and Eddie Ch. 02

Brenda and Eddie Ch. 02


Authors note: This is the second part of a series. The first story featured foot and leg fetishism, the remainder of the chapters will feature non-consensual sex, male and female bisexuality, cuckoldry, and similar themes. If you are likely to be offended by any of these topics, please find another story that might be more to your liking. For the rest of you, I hope you enjoy the story and the series.

I had been waiting in the outer office of our company comptroller, Norman Creed, for almost an hour on a Friday afternoon. My wife Brenda and I had planned a weekend getaway, and I was anxious to get it started soon. I had no idea what Norman wanted, but I hoped that it would be over soon. At least I had spent the hour productively by reliving the office romance that had brought me together with my wife...which coincidentally occurred in this very office a little more than five years ago.

"Mr. Creed will see you now," Ms. Cooper said, rising to open the door to the inner office. Sharon Cooper was a tall beautiful blonde with long hair, tied up in a bun. She wore a dark navy business suit, the snug skirt was knee length but had a slit halfway up one thigh. She had on a white ruffled blouse with a deep 'V' neckline that would have violated the company policy on cleavage, except that she wore a dark silk scarf tied decoratively around her neck. The effect was eye-catching under the body hugging lines of the tailored suitcoat, which tended to squeeze together and prop up her ample breasts. Her legs, wrapped in nude colored pantyhose, weren't as nice as my wife's, but they were still very nice. Her feet, in high heeled patent-leather pumps were very pretty, but also not up to Brenda's level of heavenly perfection. Still, I found pleasure in the sight of her legs and ass as she turned to open the door.

"Any idea what this is all about, Sharon? My wife and I are going on a getaway this weekend."

"No idea, Mr. Tompkins. I'm sure your plans won't be held up too long, though...Mr. Creed doesn't like to work on the weekend, and it's after five o'clock already." She smiled reassuringly as I went into the comptroller's office.

Actually, nobody in Electrocorp stayed very late. The culture from the CEO on down was more relaxed than it had been in any company I had ever worked with as a consultant. That's one of the two reasons I decided to leave consulting and take a full time job here as division director. The other (more important) reason was Brenda.

Norman Creed was standing at the window looking out over the fields of corn that surrounded our factory and headquarters in the rural Midwest. He was a short man, maybe 5' 6" or so, a good eight inches shorter than me, and lean and wiry compared to my muscular frame. He always wore a very serious expression, and with his dark hair, sharp features and thick eyebrows, this gave him a dour look overall. I tried to lighten him up whenever we got together, but it was a difficult task and I rarely succeeded.

He turned to face me, as I entered. "Hey, Norman, what's up? Brenda and I are headed to the big city for a weekend, and I'm anxious to get out of here." I could see his expression darken somewhat as I mentioned Brenda's name. That happened pretty often when my wife's name came up, and when I asked Brenda about it she said it was an issue that dated back to their high school days together. The two had been in the same classes their junior and senior years, and she said something about a science project gone awry. She also told me that I didn't need to worry Norman about it, so I left the topic alone with him.

The biggest drawback to living in a small city like ours was that everybody knew everybody else, by reputation and by family if not directly. In many ways it felt constricting to me, since I had grown up in Boston, and enjoyed the ability to go places and do things and still remain relatively anonymous.

Norman was very serious, even for Norman. "Sit down, Edward, this might take a while." Nobody ever called me Edward. It was always Eddie to my co-workers or Mr. Tompkins with my subordinates. I sat down in the big blue leather overstuffed chair across the desk from him. For the first time ever upon taking that seat, my mind didn't flash to the events that happened in that same spot over five years ago that led to my very happy (though admittedly kinky) relationship with my wife. I was too concerned about the tone of his voice and the contents of the red folders he was picking up from his desk.

He circled around the desk and leaned back against the edge. Because my chair was so low, this was one of the few positions where Norman could have a height advantage, and he used it to dramatic effect. "I've discovered your scheme, Tompkins. I'm ashamed that I hadn't seen it years ago, but it's coming to an end now." He waived the red folder toward me. CONFIDENTIAL was printed in large white letters on the outside, and the tab that stuck out of the top read "Tompkins Embezzlement" in handwritten letters. The folder was thick with papers of various sizes and colors.

I was dumbfounded. I was completely innocent of whatever Creed thought he found. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but all I could muster was a croaking "I'm not sure...I mean, there has to be a mistake...I never...."

"You never what," he interrupted. "You never thought you'd get caught?"

"No!" I shot back, " I mean, I haven't done anything to get caught at...I have no idea what you are talking about."

He leaned down toward me and looked me in the eyes. His dark brown eyes bored into me, staring without blinking for what was probably only a few seconds, but which felt like minutes. He snorted in contempt. "That's completely possible, Edward. After all, this is a complex and carefully executed scheme that has been hidden from me for almost five years now. It's really far beyond your level of comprehension, much less your capability to engineer such a plan."

I briefly thought about objecting, but thought better of it. It wouldn't serve me very well right now to convince him that I was capable of whatever it was he had found.

He circled back around the other side of the desk. "That leaves one possibility, that she didn't include you in her plans at all. Still, there's enough evidence here to send you both to prison for twenty years. There's no reason at all a jury would believe that you weren't part of this scheme from the very beginning, and I really have no reason to try to convince them."

"Who? Who could have done such a thing?" I was breaking into a cold sweat and my head was fogged. The possibility of spending the best years of my life in jail for something I didn't do, and didn't even know about, was scaring the shit out of me. "Clarissa? Did she do this? She has access to my accounts...." I trailed off. Clarissa was my executive secretary. As head of the division, there was a lot of important busywork that I handed off to her.

"Oh...my...god...." Creed interjected. "You really are that stupid! Not Clarissa. The woman who carried this out had access to your personal accounts certainly, but she also had access to the company ledgers that neither you nor Clarissa could have accessed. Only Brenda was in a position to pull this off, and now you're both going to be locked up for it."

I was getting lightheaded...I slumped forward in my chair and rubbed the sweat from the back of my neck, trying to keep my senses. "What did she do? How much did she take?" I said quietly, afraid of he answer but still needing to know.

"At least $2 million, maybe more. There are some accounts that I haven't yet been able to nail down, but I'll track them, soon." Creed sat down heavily in the large executive chair behind his desk and put the folder back down.

"But why come after me, if you know I didn't do it?"

"Because, nitwit, your signature and your fingerprints are all over these things, literally and figuratively. When I first found the trail it led back to you and you alone. But I figured it couldn't possibly be just you. Someone else needed to be the mastermind or it would not have worked. I suspected Brenda from the start, because I knew she had the smarts and the cunning, but she was clever enough to cover every track and trace for quite some time. That is, until last week, when she accessed one of the fake accounts through her personal company access point. She must have gotten sloppy, or forgetful. More likely she was getting cocky, and figured no one was watching." Creed folded his hands together in front of his face.

"But with that one thread her whole side of the scheme unraveled. The secret accounts, the shadow companies, the fictitious transactions and the unaccounted inventory all snapped into place." He stood up and went over to the window, then looked back at me. "If I testify that I don't think you were a part of this thing, I weaken the case against her. There's no possible way I'm doing that...she is going to prison, without a doubt, and you're just going to have to suffer for your stupidity and blind devotion and go along with her." He looked back out the window and I thought I saw him smiling in the reflection on the glass. "I'd say I'm sorry, but really, I'm not."

"C'mon, Creed! Have a heart! You said you found all the money, just take it back and let Brenda go." I couldn't believe I was going to do this, but suddenly I felt compelled to sacrifice myself for the wife that I adored so dearly. The wife at whose feet I literally worshipped. The thought of her going to prison chilled me more than the thought of spending twenty years behind bars myself. "I'll take the rap...I'll confess." I covered my eyes with my hands. "Just let Brenda go."

"You're not only stupid, you're obtuse as well. It's certainly no loss to humanity if you end up in prison. But you're not who I'm after" Creed stepped up in front of me and looked down. "I could care less about you, moron. It's Brenda that needs to be punished, for this, and for everything else she has done."

"Jeez, Creed, is this all about that stupid high school science project?!" I was angry now. This guy was being vicious because of some petty thing 10 or 15 years ago. I stood up to confront him. "I should rip your head off."

"Lay a finger on me, Tompkins, and the two security officers that Ms. Cooper is entertaining in the outer office will come in here and shoot you dead, as I have already instructed them to do should violence erupt." He circled quickly back to the other side of his desk as he spoke these words, in case I didn't back down. I thought for a moment that I could probably leap of the desk snap his neck before security arrived, but then I'd be killed, and Brenda would still go to prison. I sat back down, defeated.

"Good boy, Eddie. Good boy." He chuckled, knowing that he finally had me completely beaten. "I don't know what kind of fairy tales your little wife has been telling you, dumbass, but these issues I have with her are far bigger than a high school science project." He pulled something out of his shirt pocket and tossed it across the desk. It rolled to a stop on top of a stack of papers right in front of me. It was Brenda's old engagement ring.

"Where did you get that?"

"It's really amazing how much of a simpleton you are, Tompkins. I guess that proves that good looks can take a person a long way in life. Don't you get it? I have it because she gave it back to me."

I had always thought that Brenda's old engagement ring was just a prop, a cheap thing that she wore to hold off the guys she didn't like. After all, she never talked about having a boyfriend or a fiancé. "I'm sorry, I never knew..." was all I could manage to say.

"I'm starting to think that it would be easier to come up with a list of the things you DO know, Tompkins. It shouldn't take more than a couple of minutes." He snorted at me again, sarcastically. "I pity you. I really do, but I'm not at all sorry for what's going to happen to you. If you have any shred of intelligence in that hulking frame you will keep your mouth shut unless I specifically ask you to speak from this point forward. It's the only way you might expect the slightest bit of undeserved mercy for your or for that fucking cunt of a wife."

He composed himself and hit the intercom button on his phone. "Ms. Cooper, will you please escort Ms. Miller in?" Miller was Brenda's maiden name, and she chose not to change it to Tompkins when we were married.

My wife entered the room in her typical, head turning, jaw dropping fashion. She was dressed in a dark grey pinstriped skirt that stopped just above her knees. Around her waist was tied a wide, black piece of fabric, and the effect was like a buccaneer's belt. She wore shimmering, light grey stockings, a pair of strappy high heels, and a white long-sleeved, silk blouse that was just transparent enough to see that she wore a lacy camisole underneath. Her red hair cascaded down over her shoulders to the middle of her shoulder blades, and her clear blue eyes flashed a challenge to Creed as she entered the room.

"What do you want, Norman?" Her voice was tinged with acid. "I'm getting ready for a trip, and I don't have time for silliness, so let's cut to the chase." She hardly glanced at me as she walked up to his desk defiantly.

"Have a seat, Ms. Miller." Creed's words were as icy as my wife's. In five years, I had never observed the two of them together, and I now knew why.

My wife settled gracefully into the other overstuffed blue leather chair and crossed her perfect legs, tapping her foot in the air impatiently. She never took her eyes off of Norman, watching him as a mongoose might watch a cobra. "Well?"

Creed held the folder in his lap so that she couldn't see it from her vantage point behind the desk. He selected a few pieces of paper from the folder, stood, and walked around the desk to stand in front of my wife. "Look at what I found, Brenda." He handed her the papers.

Her face immediately sank as she scanned what he held in his hand. She took the pages from him gingerly, looked them over quickly, and, for a brief moment, looked up at him with a pleading glance. The steely look he returned made it immediately clear that pleading would not be an option, so her face turned to austere resolve. "Check, Norman."

"You, of all people, know me better than that, Brenda. Checkmate, or you wouldn't be sitting here."

"Alright," she seemed instantly resigned, "what is it you want?"

"He wants to put us both in prison..." I blurted out, ignoring Creed's admonition. He shot me a glance so hard that I immediately stopped what I was going to say...something to the effect of loving my dear wife, and wanting to sacrifice myself for her sake, and my not blaming her for the situation we were in, and just wanting to protect her from harm. But instead I said nothing.

"Indeed?" she said with a note of disbelief. "I don't think so." She turned to me. "I think if Norman had wanted us in prison, he would have had the local police escort us both from the building in handcuffs, probably in front of the entire executive team, if he could arrange it." She looked back at Creed. "Isn't that right?"

"My dear, you are far more perceptive and bright than your dull-witted husband here. Except that it would have been federal authorities escorting you on the walk of shame, and you forgot the part about the television reporters...maybe even a documentary film crew."

She looked down at the floor and took a deep, visible breath. "So," she said, looking back up, "What is it you do want, Norman?"

"First of all, Brenda, let's start with the simple things. You are never again to address me as Norman. From this point forward, you will address me as sir, or by any other name that I require you to call me. But, you will never again adopt a familiar or challenging tone, and you will never again address me as Norman. Is that clear, Brenda?"

She looked back at the floor as Creed loomed over her. Her shoulders slumped. "Yes...sir."

"Very good." He turned toward me now. "You see, meathead, that your wife has immediately grasped the enormity of her mistake, and realizes that I hold all the cards in this game. She is probably also aware of the specific laws she has broken to know that I was probably conservative when I said that you would both be in prison for 20 years...it would probably be longer, perhaps much longer. She is facing the fact that because of her greed she would likely be in prison until her early 50's, and she is not relishing that prospect."

He turned back toward her and stepped up close to her, taking her chin in his hand the same way she used to take mine in hers when we she bade me goodnight all those nights five years ago. Her face was very close to his crotch in this position, a fact that he clearly knew, and relished. "My dear Brenda. I want what only what any man in my current position would want." He let that thought linger in the air. "I want you, and your lump of beefcake here, completely, totally, willingly, and this is the most important part, submissively. I want only that you do as I ask, exactly as I ask, without pause, hesitation or argument. Isn't that reasonable?"

"Yes...sir," she replied meekly. In the entire length of our marriage, I had never seen her act like this with anyone. She always had an attitude and a manner that matched the stereotypical temperament of a redhead. She was always in control, even when outranked and outnumbered.

She looked over at me, and wordlessly, only with her eyes, told me that she was sorry. Then she looked back up at Creed, and slowly reached toward his belt and his zipper, as though she were about to undo them. I was shocked. In the five years of our marriage she had never shown the slightest interest in opening my pants, much less in doing what I expected her to do once she got them open.

Creed's reaction was instant and unexpected. His right hand came down in a blur and slapped her hard across the face. I started to rise to defend her, but she reacted first, looking at me and pleading, "No, please, Eddie, don't...." I sat back down. Her lightly freckled left cheek was red with his handprint.

"She's right again, Eddie" Creed hissed at me. "Don't mess this up for the two of you just when we have reached a workable arrangement. She knows what she did wrong," he turned to her "don't you darling?"

"Yes, sir. You didn't ask me to do that, sir. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." In a matter of moments, she had completely adopted the meek submissive mode that this miserable, blackmailing wretch required.

"Good, I'm sure it won't. Brenda is a very fast learner, Eddie. I hope that you can be as pliable as your wife. Do you think you can, for the sake of your freedom, and hers?"

"I can." They both looked at me sharply, and I quickly added, "sir."

"Very good." He turned back to her. "You'll get what you were after soon enough, dear Brenda. But first there are some formalities."

He walked around the desk and reached into the top drawer, pulling out two identical manila folders and placing them on the desk in front of him.

"Here are the terms of my choosing, and they are non-negotiable. First, you will execute the attached paperwork. In addition to the contracts that assign your income and assets to me, there are consent forms enclosed indicating that the two of you are willing and compliant subjects in..." he paused briefly as he flipped to a specific page in Brenda's folder to quote, "'...a longitudinal research project to study the effects of sexually perverse, fetishistic and promiscuous behaviors on marital harmony and sexual relationships.' I like the way that sounds, don't you? So you see, this is serious research, it has a legitimate academic purpose."

"What this means, in practical terms, is that you will receive instructions from me or from other 'researchers' that I authorize, in a variety of modes. You may receive phone calls, text messages, written instructions, or directly receive verbal requirements from an individual authorized to conduct this experiment. You will always...always..perform these tasks as directed without question or hesitation. If you fail to do so, you will be punished. Most punishment will be corporal, immediate, and memorably painful. The correction I delivered to Brenda just now was mild, almost tender by comparison. Continued and willful resistance on the part of either or both of you will terminate the agreement and you will both face the ultimate punishment. Is that clear enough?"

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