Chapter Six

One Year Later

Flick sat at the corner table of the upscale rooftop cocktail bar and crossed her long legs. She wore a tight pink dress with a plunging neckline that pushed her fake F-cups aggressively upward. Her blonde hair was tied into playful pigtails that bounced against her shoulders whenever she adjusted her posture. Bright, glossy red lipstick coated her overplumped lips, pulling her mouth into a permanent pout. She rested her pink platform heels against the floor and offered the older, overweight man sitting across from her a wide, vacant smile.

Jared Morrison wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and stared down at the paper contract resting on the table between them. He picked up a ballpoint pen, rolling the metal cylinder between his fingers, but he made no move to sign the dotted line.

“I can’t just sign this away,” Jared said. “My father looked me in the eye on his deathbed and made me promise to keep those acres in the family. We’ve held that soil for four generations. It feels wrong to let it go.”

Flick leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table, ensuring her deep cleavage was perfectly framed for him to see.

“Oh my god, Jared,” Flick said, her voice carrying a bright, breathless valley-girl twang. “You are like, totally letting a promise from forever ago cost you a lot of money. Dirt is just dirt. My boss, like, wants to give you so much for it. You could buy something so much better than an empty field. You could buy a yacht, or like, a really fast sports car. I literally love fast cars.”

“It is not about the money, Felicity,” Jared argued, placing the pen down on the paper. “It is about loyalty to my family. I know your company wants to pave over it. My dog is buried in that field, and I promised my dad I would protect it.”

“History is literally so boring,” she giggled, waving her manicured hand dismissively. “We’re going to build beautiful things there. And if you sign, we get to be partners. I love working with big, strong partners who know how to make smart choices.”

Jared frowned and shook his head, keeping his hands firmly in his lap. “I appreciate the offer, but I just don’t think I can do it. I have to protect my family’s legacy.”

Flick reached into her designer bag and retrieved her gold cigarette case. She popped the lid open, pulled a long white cylinder free, and placed the filter between her gigantic red lips. She grabbed a lighter and struck the flint, holding the flame to the tip as she drew the smoke into her lungs. She hollowed her cheeks to emphasize her extreme facial modifications, tilting her head back to exhale a slow ring of smoke into the air above the table.

“You’re so tense, Jared,” Flick purred, taking another slow drag of her cigarette. “You need to just relax and, like, let a girl help you figure things out.”

She pushed her chair back and stood up. She walked around the edge of the table, her hips swaying with an exaggerated strut. Jared watched her approach, his eyes locked on her chest as she closed the distance. Flick didn’t stop when she reached his chair. She turned around and lowered herself directly onto his lap, straddling his legs and resting her full weight against his thighs. Her free hand lightly squeezed his crotch.

Jared gasped in surprise, his hands instinctively dropping to her waist to steady her. “Umm, what are you doing?” Jared asked, his voice shaking.

“I’m just totally trying to make you feel better,” Flick smiled, wrapping her free arm around his neck.

She pressed her chest flush against his jacket, using her body to distract him from his moral conflict. She looked deeply into his eyes, projecting an aura of pure, dumb adoration. She brought the cigarette back to her mouth and wrapped her large lips around the filter in a highly suggestive, sensual motion. She sucked the smoke in slowly, letting him watch the way her glossy mouth manipulated the cylinder before pulling it away and blowing a thin stream of smoke off to the side.

“I know it’s a tough decision,” Flick whispered, grinding her hips subtly against his lap. “But you’re making me so sad when you say no. I want you to say yes, Jared. I want to tell my boss that you’re a smart man who knows how to treat a girl right.”

Jared swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to her deep cleavage and then back up to her painted mouth. His fingers tightened on her hips, his resistance clearly melting under the overwhelming sexual pressure she applied. The chubby man seemingly hadn’t had many interactions with women of this nature before.

“I-I promised my dad,” Jared muttered weakly.

“Your dad just wanted you to be happy,” Flick countered, leaning in closer until her nose almost brushed against his. “I want you to be happy. Don’t you want to make me happy, Jared? Signing that paper will make me so happy. You want to make me happy, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jared admitted, his voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper.

“Then be a good boy and sign the paper for me,” Flick instructed, kissing his cheek with her fat lips softly.

She adjusted herself on his lap and reached across the table, picking up the pen and pressing it directly into his palm. She guided his fingers toward the document, keeping her chest pressed against his shoulder as she waited for him to comply. Jared stared at the contract for a few seconds before giving up the fight. He pressed the pen to the page and scribbled his signature across the bottom line, officially selling his family land to the firm.

Flick beamed with delight. She took the pen from his fingers and snatched the paper off the table.

“You are literally the best,” Flick cheered, sliding off his lap and standing back up on her platform heels. “I totally can’t, like, wait to work more closely with you.”

Jared stood up from his chair, smoothing the front of his jacket with trembling hands. He offered her a dazed nod, overwhelmed by the encounter, and walked away from the table without saying another word. Flick stood alone for a few moments, taking a final drag of her cigarette while she admired the signature on the page.

A few moments later, Sam approached the table and took the seat Jared had just vacated. He crossed his legs and looked up at his secretary with a victorious grin.

“Let me see that,” Sam said, holding his hand out.

Flick handed the contract over, watching patiently as her stepbrother reviewed the ink on the bottom line. Sam scanned the document to ensure everything was legally binding, his smile widening as he confirmed the successful transaction. He set the paper down and looked back at the blonde woman standing in front of him.

“Good girl,” he praised.

A violent, uncontrollable shudder of pure pleasure rushed down Flick’s spine the moment the words left his mouth. The conditioned response flooded her nervous system, filling her stomach with a humiliating warmth that forced a soft gasp from her red lips. The CEO’s approval acted as a potent reward that kept the young blonde docile and eager.

“I literally hate doing these boring meetings, Sam,” Flick complained, adopting a pout as she stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. “They are like, so exhausting. These old guys always want to talk about their feelings and, like, touch me the wrong way. Ewww, gross.”

“But you’re so good at them, doll,” Sam chuckled, grinning from ear to ear. “You just convinced a man to surrender a generational promise he had made to his dead dad in under ten minutes. Nobody else could have pulled that off. I’ve spent months trying to get him to sign.” He looked her up and down and chuckled to himself, as if telling himself an inside joke. “You can go now. I’m sure your new husband is waiting for you at home.”

Flick felt a deep shudder run through her body. The mention of her new husband brought a rush of anticipated pleasure mixed with submissive obedience, knowing exactly what plans he had for her tonight.

“Oh my god, you’re totally right,” Flick giggled, picking up her designer bag and standing up from the table. “I really need to get back. Bye, Sam!”

She turned around and walked toward the exit, swaying her hips with a practiced rhythm as she left the rooftop bar behind, and headed back home.

❖

Flick pushed the front door open and stepped into the enclosed porch of her home. She dropped her designer bag onto a side bench and kicked off her platform heels. She let out a soft sigh of relief as her bare feet touched the floor, happy to be done with her demanding workday. She reached behind her back and unzipped her tight pink dress. She pushed the fabric over her hips, letting it pool around her ankles before stepping out of the garment. She stood naked in the entryway, her platinum pigtails resting over her shoulders. The transition from her persuasive daytime persona to her private domestic reality happened the moment she crossed the threshold. She left all her outside responsibilities on the other side of that door.

She looked down at the soft floor mat. Her husband always left her evening attire waiting for her right by the entrance. Tonight, a collection of thick white leather straps and a silver metal plug rested neatly on a folded towel. Flick felt a familiar, involuntary shudder of pleasure run down her spine. Her mind went blank, swept clear of any lingering thoughts about work. She felt only an eager desire to obey the strict rules of her husband. She dropped to her knees and picked up the first piece of equipment.

Flick reached for the white harness. The piece consisted of multiple straps connected by silver rings. She slipped her arms through the top loops, settling the leather over her shoulders. She reached around her back, blindly finding the metal buckles and pulling the straps tight. The leather dug firmly into her skin, providing a grounding sense of restriction. The front straps circled underneath and around her large tits, pushing them aggressively forward. Her sensitive nipples were left exposed to the air. She ran her hands down the front of the harness, ensuring every strap sat exactly where her husband wanted it.

She reached for the silver metal plug resting on the towel, noting the long blonde tail attached to its base that perfectly matched the color of her pigtails. She parted her legs and guided the smooth metal against her body, pushing it deep inside with a wet slide, letting out a soft moan as the wide base settled firmly against her rear. The synthetic fur brushed against her skin, swaying gently behind her as she shifted her weight on the floor.

Flick picked up the white bone gag and parted her big, red lips, biting down on the hard centerpiece and tasting the clean material on her tongue. She pulled the leather straps past her ears, buckling them tightly behind her head, forcing her mouth to bite against the silly bone. She couldn’t close her jaw or form proper words, the dog bone pressing firmly down to ensure she remained quiet and compliant.

“Mmmph,” Flick hummed, testing her restricted voice.

She liked the pathetic noise, taking comfort in the fact that it proved she was a good girl who only spoke when her master allowed it.

She moved on to the leather cuffs waiting for her on the towel, picking up the larger bands designed for her legs. She wrapped the leather around her upper thighs, pulling the straps until they tightened against her flesh, and repeated the process with a matching pair around her ankles. Each cuff featured a metal D-ring and a short connecting clip. Remaining on her knees, Flick brought her left ankle up toward her thigh, grabbing the metal clip and snapping it onto the ring. She then performed the same careful action on her right side. Her feet were now securely locked up against her rear, preventing her from straightening her legs or standing upright.

She grabbed the remaining restraints, securing a pair of bands around her biceps right above her elbows, and finished her preparation by strapping the final cuffs around her wrists. The arm restraints utilized the same clipping mechanism as her legs, and she knew from experience that this was always the most challenging part of her routine. She twisted her left arm inward and dragged her wrist up to her upper arm, fumbling with the metal hardware until she managed to snap the clip into place.

Pinning her final arm proved to be much more difficult, as she had to rely entirely on her right hand to make the connection while her left side remained immobile. She brought her right wrist up to her bicep, contorting her shoulder to force the metal rings together, but her fingers slipped off the clip twice. She let out a frustrated whine through the bone gag, straining her muscles to reach the hardware. Pressing her wrist against her cheek for leverage, she used the awkward angle to push the clip open, and the metal snapped shut around the ring.

Her hands were now securely pinned up by her shoulders, rendering her fingers entirely useless and forcing her to drop forward onto the floor mat. She caught her weight on her elbows and knees, her large breasts swaying with the downward motion as the leather harness kept them presented perfectly forward. She paused in the entryway, panting softly through her nose as she adjusted to her unnatural center of gravity.

It was a Tuesday, which meant it was petplay night, and Flick now looked the part.

She let out a muffled whimper as she began her awkward crawl out of the porch, shuffling her elbows forward while dragging her knees across the hardwood floor. The metal hardware clinked softly with every movement, creating a rhythmic soundtrack to her submission as the blonde tail wagged back and forth behind her.

Crawling required intense concentration, forcing her to sway her hips exaggeratedly to maintain her balance on all fours. Her exposed breasts rubbed against her own forearms as she navigated the hallway.

She turned the corner and paused at the threshold of the sitting room, letting her aching knees rest against the carpet. The sound of the television murmured from the far side of the room, accompanied by the clink of ice against glass. She peered through the doorway and spotted her husband relaxing in his armchair, a drink held loosely in his hand.

Flick let out a high-pitched, eager whine through the bone gag. She pressed her elbows into the carpet and resumed her crawl, lowering her chest closer to the ground to demonstrate her submission. She dragged her bound legs across the room, letting the blonde tail flick behind her, until she reached the base of his chair to take her place at his feet.

❖

Giles sat back on the plush living room couch and rested his feet up on the coffee table. The television played an old sitcom, the laugh track echoing through the quiet house while he enjoyed his evening. He held a crystal glass of scotch, swirling the liquid as he listened to the jokes on the screen. He turned his head and grinned as he spotted his new wife struggling toward him. He had come to enjoy Petplay Tuesdays.

Flick entered the room and dragged her bare knees across the carpet, making her way toward the couch. She kept her posture low, swaying her hips to maintain her balance on all fours as she crawled closer. She reached her husband’s legs and dropped her chest closer to the floor, resting her chin affectionately against the toe of his leather shoe.

“Mmmph, mm-nnngh,” Flick whined, looking up at him with eager, vacant eyes.

Giles chuckled and reached down, running his fingers through her platinum locks and petting her head like an obedient animal. “Good pet,” he praised.

A warm shudder of pleasure rushed through Flick’s body, bringing a wetness between her thighs. She loved being praised, nuzzling her face against his shoe and letting her blonde tail wag back and forth against the carpet.

“You behaved well at the wedding,” Giles said, taking a sip of his scotch and keeping his hand rested on top of her head. “You stood there in that ridiculous dress, and you smiled and nodded through the whole ceremony like a good little submissive bimbo. You didn’t complain about the vows, you didn’t argue with anyone, and you let me take charge all night.”

Flick hummed happily against the bone gag, enjoying the sound of his voice praising her obedience.

“And I loved our honeymoon,” Giles continued, leaning back into the cushions. “That island was picturesque, and you spent two straight weeks on your knees with my cock in your mouth. You served me whenever I asked, wore those slutty little outfits I picked out for you. You just kept your mouth busy and did as you were told. You let me tie you up on the beach chairs, and you crawled around the hotel room for me like a pretty little bitch. It was paradise.”

Flick whined in agreement, her breath carrying around the hard bone in her mouth as the memories of the beach washed over her. She had such a simple life now.

“It makes me realize what a fool I used to be,” Giles sighed, swirling the remaining scotch in his glass. “I spent months acting like a lovesick simp for you. I helped you forge those legal documents, and I tried to help you steal your stepfather’s money away from Sam. I thought I was protecting you, but I was wrong about what you needed.”

He shook his head, a look of clarity washing over his face as the subliminal programming installed by his boss directed his thoughts.

“Sam is a good man,” Giles stated firmly, staring down at the blonde woman kneeling by his shoes. “He showed me the truth. He helped me see that a woman like you needs a master rather than an equal partner. You need someone to control your attitude and put you in your place. Everything worked out the way it should have. Sam got his Dad’s firm back, and I got the obedient slut I always wanted.”

“Nnnngh,” Flick agreed, nodding her head vigorously.

Giles reached forward and stroked her cheek, tracing his thumb along the edge of the leather straps holding her gag in place. Flick leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut as she savored the physical affection. She thrived on his approval, her mind scrubbed of ambition and left with an eager drive to serve him.

“This life suits you, Flick,” Giles murmured, trailing his hand down her neck to rest on the top of her white harness. “I like knowing you leave all that attitude at the front door. You used to be demanding. Now look at you. You are on the floor with a plug up your ass, unable to even stand upright without my permission.”

Flick let out another muffled whine, bobbing her head to show she understood her place. She wagged her blonde tail, the synthetic fur brushing against the backs of her bound legs.

Giles set his glass down on the coffee table and leaned forward. He reached behind her head, finding the metal buckle securing her gag, and pulled the leather straps loose. He slipped the hard bone out from between her painted red lips, tossing it onto the table next to his drink. A string of saliva connected the toy to her bottom lip before breaking away and landing on her chin.

Flick gasped for air, working her jaw to stretch the stiff muscles. She licked her fat lips, tasting the residual flavor of the gag on her tongue.

“Do you have anything you want to say to me, wife?” Giles asked, staring down at her face.

Flick looked up into his eyes and offered him a bright smile.

“Is there, like, anything else you need from me to make your day better, Daddy?” Flick asked in her breathy tone.

Giles grinned, loving how she called him Daddy. “I’m glad you asked.”

He reached down to the waistband of his pants, pulling the zipper down and pushing the fabric aside. He reached into his underwear and pulled his erect cock out, letting it spring into the open right in front of her face.

“Get to work, slut,” Giles ordered.

Flick didn’t hesitate. With her arms still securely pinned by her shoulders, she relied on her upper strength to lean forward and close the final inch of distance between them. She parted her inviting lips, opening her mouth wide to take the head of his cock past her teeth, and let out a soft moan as she tasted him. She pushed her head forward, taking his rigid shaft deeper into her throat with a wet, sloppy sound, before pulling back to establish a steady, rhythmic pace while her platinum pigtails bobbed up and down.

Giles groaned and reached down to grab a fistful of her hair, using his grip to guide her movements and force his dick deeper into her mouth. Flick swallowed around him, stretching her oversized lips to accommodate his girth, and flicked her tongue around the sensitive underside of his shaft. She sucked hard, drawing him deep enough to hit the back of her throat before pulling away with a loud smack, slobbering all over him while her blonde tail wagged happily against the carpet.

❖

Sam sat at the head of the long glass-top boardroom table, presiding over the morning meeting at Gordon Enterprises. Ten men and two women occupied the leather chairs running down the length of the room, reviewing the printed dockets placed before them. The morning air carried a sense of anticipation, the directors murmuring among themselves as they waited for the proceedings to begin. Giles sat halfway down the table, wearing a pristine dark red suit, chatting to the man seated beside him.

Sam cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room. He leaned forward and steepled his fingers together, projecting an air of authority over the assembled board members despite his relatively young age. The side conversations died down immediately.

“Before we get into the main agenda, I want to take a moment to welcome our Chief Financial Officer back to the table,” Sam announced, gesturing down the row toward his late father’s oldest friend and his new brother-in-law. “Giles just returned from his honeymoon in Hawaii. I’m sure the rest of the board agrees the wedding was unforgettable.”

A round of applause broke out across the room. The directors tapped their pens against the glass table and clapped their hands, turning their attention toward the older CFO. Giles smiled and offered a polite nod, wordlessly acknowledging the congratulations without breaking his professional demeanor. He adjusted his suit jacket and turned his focus back to the printed docket resting in front of him.

The double doors at the back of the room swung open. Flick walked into the room, carrying a silver pitcher filled with ice water. She wore a tight red latex miniskirt stopping inches below her crotch, paired with a sheer white blouse unbuttoned down to her navel. Her large enhanced breasts pushed against the thin fabric, her dark pink nipples clearly visible through the material. She wore high-heeled stiletto sandals, forcing her bare legs to flex with every step she took. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, swinging behind her shoulders as she walked. A vibrant coat of red lipstick painted her oversized mouth, locked into a permanent, vapid smile.

She approached Frank Spence first. She leaned over his shoulder, giving him a clear view down her open shirt as she filled his glass. The ice clinked against the crystal, the only sound in the room as the older man paused to watch her work. Flick offered a breathy giggle, winking at the director before strutting down the line to the next empty glass. She took her time with each pour, bending at the waist and sticking her rear out to ensure the men got a good look at her body. The sharp click of her stiletto heels echoed against the floor as she navigated the space. She approached a stern-faced woman who rolled her eyes at the display, but Flick ignored the reaction. She only cared about pleasing the men in the room.

She reached Giles and stepped up close to his chair, pressing her hip against his shoulder as she poured the water. Giles reached up and placed his hand firmly on her bare thigh. He slid his palm upward, gripping the bottom of her latex skirt and squeezing her ass right in front of the board.

Flick let out a soft moan of pleasure, arching her back to push her ass deeper into his hand. Giles gave her flesh a loud smack, leaving a red handprint on her skin, before returning his attention to his paperwork. Flick giggled and strutted away, her hips swaying seductively as she continued her circuit around the large table. She ensured every glass was full, pausing to run her hands down her stomach and draw more attention to her curves while acting as a silent, sexualized showpiece for the executive meeting.

Sam watched her complete her rounds, waiting until she took her place standing silently behind his chair. He tapped a file folder sitting in front of him, drawing the eyes of the board back to the matter at hand.

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, let us move on to the Morrison acquisition,” Sam stated, his voice carrying down the length of the room. “I have the signed contract right here. The land is ours.”

Murmurs of approval rippled through the directors. Frank leaned forward, adjusting his reading glasses as he scrutinized the copy in his folder. He flipped through the first few pages, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he read the contract.

“This is an exceptional result, Sam,” Frank noted, tapping his pen against the paper. “Jared has been fighting us on this parcel for months. He refused every offer we sent his way, constantly bringing up some emotional attachment to his father. He swore he would never sell that land to developers. How did you manage to get his signature?”

Sam smirked, leaning back in his leather chair and gesturing casually over his shoulder toward the blonde woman standing behind him.

“I sent my assistant to handle the negotiation,” Sam explained, interlacing his fingers again. “She has a unique way of closing a deal. She sat down with him at a cocktail bar last night, applied some persuasive pressure, and secured the signature in less than ten minutes.”

The board members turned their heads, openly staring at Flick. The men looked her up and down, their eyes lingering on her exposed cleavage and the short hem of her latex skirt. Flick maintained her wide smile, pushing her chest out proudly and posing for the room. She enjoyed the attention, batting her long eyelashes at the directors as they openly leered at her body.

“Whatever methods she used, the results speak for themselves,” Frank chuckled, shaking his head and returning his focus to the paperwork. “What are the final terms of the purchase? Did we have to concede on the zoning contingencies?”

“No concessions were made,” Sam answered, leaning forward to address the room with a confident grin. “We acquired the seventy-acre parcel at forty percent of the current market value. Jared was in some money troubles, and my assistant here convinced him to prioritize immediate cash over holding out for more. This acquisition gives us the monopoly on the waterfront development project. Once we break ground and develop the commercial zones, our financial department projects a five hundred percent profit margin within the next three years.”

The room erupted. Frank stood up from his chair, a wide grin spreading across his face, and began to clap. The rest of the board followed suit. The men tapped their hands on the glass table, celebrating the fortunes of the company.

“I have to say it, Sam,” Frank shouted over the applause. “When you first took over, some of us were worried you weren’t the right fit. But you’ve proved us wrong. You’re a chip off the old block. You took this firm by the reins and steered us into the most profitable quarter we have seen in a decade. Your father would be proud of the man sitting in that chair today.”

Sam accepted the praise with a humble nod, letting the applause wash over him. Frank reached down and picked up his glass of water, raising it high into the air.

“To Sam,” Frank toasted, projecting his voice for the room to hear. “The right man for the job.”

“To Sam,” the board echoed in unison, lifting their glasses and taking a drink.

Sam picked up his own glass and turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder. He locked eyes with Flick as the board celebrated his victory. She stared back at him with her dumb smile, standing straight behind his chair. She offered him a submissive nod, batting her eyelashes and waiting for her next command. Sam took a slow sip of his water, holding her gaze, enjoying the unquestioned dominance he held over the stepsister who almost took everything from him.

He set his glass down on the table and turned his attention back to the assembled directors, bringing the room back to order with a wave of his hand.

“Thank you, Frank,” Sam said, his tone returning to a baseline. “We have a lot of work ahead of us. I expect those reports from the development team by the end of the week. If there are no further points to raise, I’m dismissing this morning’s meeting.”

The directors nodded in agreement as they gathered their paperwork. Flick stepped forward, ready to gather the empty glasses and clean up the room like the obedient secretary she was.

❖

Sam walked into his office and tossed the signed contract onto his desk. He walked around the large piece of furniture and sat down in his chair, leaning back to watch his stepsister step through the doorway. Flick wore the same red latex miniskirt and sheer unbuttoned white blouse from the boardroom. She stopped in front of his desk and pushed her big fake breasts forward, offering him a smile.

“Do you, like, need anything else before I go back to work, Sir?” Flick asked, her voice carrying the familiar breathy twang.

“Close the door,” Sam ordered, gesturing toward the hallway.

Flick nodded and stepped backward, grabbing the brass handle and pushing the wooden door shut until the latch clicked into place. She turned around to face him, maintaining her wide grin.

“Stand in the middle of the office,” Sam commanded, resting his hands on the armrests of his chair. “Stand straight, thrust those beautiful tits out, keep your head high, and stay frozen.”

Flick marched to the center of the room and snapped her stiletto sandals together. She arched her back, pushing her chest out as far as her spine allowed. She lifted her chin, staring straight ahead at the wall. Her muscles locked into place, freezing her body in a rigid stance. She looked like a slutty store mannequin on display.

Sam stood up from his chair and walked around his desk. He approached her paralyzed form and reached out, running a finger down her bare cleavage. Flick didn’t react to his touch. She remained locked in her commanded posture, her nipples pressing against the fabric.

“I want to talk to Felicity now,” Sam announced, folding his arms across his chest.

“-of here you fucking piece of shit!” Felicity shouted suddenly, her voice dropping the breathy twang and cutting through the quiet office.

She gasped for air as the blonde realized she could speak her mind for the first time in a little over a year. She tried to move her hands, but her arms remained glued to her sides. She tried to take a step backward, but her bare legs refused to bend. Sam had commanded her to stay frozen, and her nervous system obeyed his voice over her own desires. She was trapped inside a paralyzed form, forced to offer her body to the man who stole her life.

“Sam, you need to stop this. I learned my lesson,” the woman pleaded in desperation. “Please let me go. You won’t hear from me again. I’ll leave the city and disappear. You won’t ever have to see me again.”

Sam chuckled and cupped her chin with his hand. He admired her slutty face as she tried to weasel out of his control. Talking to his real stepsister felt liberating to the young man.

“Why would I let you go?” Sam asked, gesturing toward her helpless form. “The clients love seeing you around the office. The employees love watching you prancing around with your big tits in slutty outfits. You bring a lot of joy to this building, Flick.”

“I can’t take this anymore,” Felicity sobbed. Her jaw trembled as she struggled against the invisible chains holding her in place. “Giles is psychotic. I can’t go back to him. He keeps me in restraints and forces me to crawl on the floor half the time. Every night is a new nightmare. I have to pretend I enjoy the degradation while he treats me like his personal plaything.”

“He treats you like an obedient wife,” Sam said, a cold smirk resting on his lips. “You took a vow to love him, Felicity. You stood at the altar and promised to obey him. I’m just making sure you honor your commitments.”

“And the work dates,” Felicity spat, her tone growing venomous. “You force me to act like a brainless whore to close your deals. I can’t do this, Sam!”

“Those dates bring in money,” the stepbrother replied, walking around her frozen body to inspect her. “You landed us a big deal last night. You bring in more cash acting as a honeypot than you ever did sitting in my chair. You are a natural bimbo. The men in this city would rather fuck you than negotiate with you.”

Felicity let out a scream of frustration. She tried to force her neck to turn so she could look at him. Her muscles strained against her skin, the veins in her neck bulging with effort, but she could not break the command. She tried to lift her heel to kick him, but her feet remained rooted to the rug. She was a prisoner inside her own skin, forced to maintain the slutty pose he commanded. She remained locked facing forward, her breasts thrust out and her back arched. Her fake tits bounced from the force of her yelling, exposing her body further while she remained powerless to stop it.

“I hate you,” Felicity yelled as her emotions got the better of her, staring blankly at the wall. “I’ll kill you. I’ll find a way to break this hold you have on me, and I’ll end your life.”

Sam paused behind her. He trailed his hand down her spine until his fingers reached the bare skin of her lower back, right above her latex skirt. He dragged his nails lightly across her flesh, drawing a helpless whimper from her plump lips.

“You will do no such thing, sis,” Sam whispered in her ear, stepping close to her paralyzed form. “Felicity only comes out when I allow it. The rest of the time, you’re just my dumb, slutty secretary.”

“Fuck you,” Felicity cried out. “You stole my fucking life.”

“I took back what you tried to steal from me,” Sam stated. He walked back around to stand in front of her. “And now you’re going to spend the rest of your life paying off that debt.”

Sam stepped back, ignoring the insults falling from her oversized lips. He watched her struggle, her bare legs flexing in her sandals as she tried to force her muscles to rebel against his orders. It was a pointless effort. He owned her body.

“Anyway, we are done talking now,” the young CEO stated clearly. “Pineapple Coconut Salad.”

A shudder rocked the blonde bimbo’s body. The anger vanished from her features, replaced by a bright smile. The tension in her muscles relaxed to let her breathe normally again, though she remained frozen in her submissive pose. Her eyes lost their furious edge, turning vacant and eager once more. The solitary tear stopped flowing, leaving a faint streak down her cheek.

“You can move now,” Sam told her.

Flick giggled and relaxed her posture. She brought her hands up to adjust her blonde ponytail. She smoothed down the front of her latex miniskirt and batted her eyelashes at him. She beamed at the man standing in front of her, projecting an eager desire to please him.

“So, like, do you need anything else before I go back to work?” Flick asked in that returning playful tone.

“Bring me a black coffee,” the man ordered, returning to his leather chair, “then get to work. You have a lot of filing to attend to before lunch, so you better hop to it.”

“Right away, Sir,” the blonde chirped.

She turned around on her stiletto heels and strutted out of the office, her hips swaying with a sexual rhythm, leaving Sam alone to enjoy his victory.

❖

Flick pushed the front door open and stepped into the enclosed porch of her home at the end of the day. She dropped her purse onto a wooden bench and kicked off her sandals, enjoying the brief relief in her bare feet. She reached up to pull the elastic band out of her hair, letting her blonde locks fall down around her shoulders. She turned her attention to the small closet near the inner door and opened the wooden panel, finding her evening attire hanging from a plastic hanger.

A skimpy French maid outfit waited for her. It consisted of a semi-sheer black lace bra, a white ruffled apron attached to a tight black corset, and a tiny black skirt meant to expose her ass. A pair of black thigh-high stockings and a matching garter belt hung beside a cheap plastic feather duster on a secondary hook. The headband and white maid cuffs sat beside the 6-inch patent black stiletto heels at the bottom of the closet.

No, not again, Felicity screamed inside her mind, staring at the degrading costume. I’m not wearing that trash again.

Despite her mental protests, Flick smiled and reached up to unbutton her sheer white blouse. Her fingers moved carefully, stripping the thin fabric off her shoulders and tossing it onto the porch bench. She reached down and unzipped her latex miniskirt, letting the material pool around her ankles before stepping out of the garment. She stood naked in the entryway, her large fake breasts jutting forward as she reached for the semi-sheer black lace bra. She strapped the lingerie across her chest, securing the metal clasps in the back, forcing her tits up into an exaggerated cleavage.

She slipped on the corset and pulled the laces tight, cinching her waist in and pushing her breasts even higher. The stiff boning of the corset restricted her breathing, forcing her to take shallow gasps of air and maintain a feminine posture.

I’m going to be sick, Felicity thought, watching her own hands attach the garter straps to the black stockings. I can’t keep going on like this.

Flick giggled aloud, admiring the way the skirt barely covered her bare pussy as she smoothed the white ruffled apron down her cinched stomach. She slipped her feet into the tall patent heels, securing the thin ankle straps to lock her feet into the harsh arch. She slid the white maid cuffs over her wrists and positioned the frilly headband into her blonde hair. She grabbed the plastic feather duster and strutted through the inner door to start her evening chores, her hips swaying with every calculated step she took.

Giles seemed to have a theme for his wife every night, a brand new humiliation to keep him entertained. Whereas yesterday was Petplay Tuesday, today appeared to be French Maid Wednesday.

Fifteen minutes later, Flick stood in the spacious kitchen, preparing a steak dinner for her husband. She seasoned the raw meat with salt and pepper, grabbing a pair of metal tongs to lower the steaks into a hot pan. She listened to the sizzle of the cooking food, turning around on her tall heels to fetch a bottle of scotch from the liquor cabinet. She poured a generous measure into an expensive glass and carried the drink into the dining room, setting the glass down at the head of the long mahogany table. She arranged the silverware, placing the sharp knife and silver fork on either side of a ceramic plate, ensuring the setup met Giles’s strict standards. She folded the white cloth napkin into a neat triangle, placing it beside the plate.

She returned to the kitchen to flip the steaks, swaying her hips to an imaginary beat while her stiletto heels clicked against the tile floor. The blonde opened the oven to check on a tray of roasted potatoes, bending at the waist and sticking her rear out into the open room. She felt a cool draft against her bare ass cheeks and the slit of her pussy, the short maid skirt riding up with every movement to leave her lower half exposed.

How did I end up dressed like this, cooking dinner for Giles fucking Westley? This is wrong, the woman raged silently, trapped behind her own painted smile. I should take this kitchen knife and shove it through the old man’s neck.

Instead of grabbing the sharp blade, Flick plated the cooked steaks and carried the hot dish into the dining room, placing the food in front of the empty dining room chair. She returned to the kitchen to fetch the side dish of roasted potatoes, adding the bowl to the table setting before taking her designated spot to wait for her master.

About five minutes later, the front door clicked open. Loud footsteps echoed down the hallway, signaling Giles’s return from the office. He walked into the dining room a moment later, loosening his tie and shrugging off his suit jacket. He paused at the entrance, grinning as he took in the sight of the set table, the glass of scotch, and the blonde bimbo maid waiting for him.

Flick stood at attention beside his chair, holding the plastic feather duster across her chest. She offered her husband another dumb smile, pushing her breasts out to give him a clear view of her cleavage spilling out of the bra.

“Welcome ‘ome, Monsieur,” Flick purred, her voice warped into an exaggerated, breathy French accent. “I ‘ave prepared your dinner for you.”

I sound like a French whore, Felicity thought, a wave of disgust crashing through her mind as she listened to her own voice butcher the exotic accent. I sound like one of those bad porn actresses.

“It looks delicious, Flick,” Giles said, walking over to the head of the table, “and I love your outfit today.”

“Zank you, Monsieur,” Flick chirped, keeping her tone light and submissive. “I want to look sexy for you.”

She reached out and pulled the large chair back, allowing him to step into place. She pressed her hands against the wooden backrest and pushed him in, sliding the chair forward until his knees bumped against the edge of the table. She reached down and picked up the white cloth napkin resting beside his ceramic plate. The woman leaned over his shoulder, brushing her large breasts against his arm as she shook the napkin out and draped the fabric across his lap. She let her fingers trail over his crotch through the material of his suit pants, offering a subtle squeeze before pulling her hand away.

Giles chuckled and picked up his glass of scotch, taking a long sip before setting the crystal back down. He grabbed his knife and fork, cutting into the juicy steak while Flick moved behind him. She placed her hands on his shoulders and began to massage his muscles, working her fingers deep into his upper back. She dug her thumbs into his shoulder blades, ensuring her long red nails stayed away from the touch, keeping her body pressed close to the back of his chair.

Giles leaned his head back against her, letting out a satisfied groan as her hands worked away the stress of his day. He reached up and patted her hip, tracing the line of her corset before returning his hand to his fork.

“I don’t know how I lucked into this life,” Giles remarked, chewing a piece of meat. “I have a fantastic job, a beautiful home, and a dumb, obedient slut of a wife waiting to serve me my dinner.”

You assisted in ruining my life, you psychotic bastard, Felicity screamed in her mental prison, her hands continuing to rub his shoulders with practiced affection.

“I am a lucky girl to serve you, Monsieur,” Flick replied in her seductive French accent, bending down to press a soft kiss against his cheek. “Everyzing is wonderful for us. I’m not sure anything can beat this.”

She squeezed his shoulders, swaying her hips side to side behind his chair, eager to please the man who owned her. Giles took another bite of his steak, chewing slowly as he reached back and ran a hand up her exposed thigh. He gripped her bare ass cheek, his fingers sliding down to tease her mound as he enjoyed his meal.

The CFO grinned, swallowing his food before looking up at the ceiling.

“Well, there is one thing.”

❖

“Fuck my tight pussy 'arder, Monsieur!”

Giles gripped Flick’s hips and slammed his cock deep into her wet slit. He knelt behind her on the mattress, taking her from behind while she remained on her hands and knees. Flick kept her back arched, presenting her bare rear to her husband as he used her body.

“You take it like a good slut, Flick,” Giles grunted, slapping her bare ass cheek.

“Oui, Master,” the French Maid-clad woman moaned out loudly. “I love your cock inside me. Please give me more.”

The old fart is fucking me again, the blonde raged in her mental prison, her painted nails clawing at the bedsheets.

Despite her silent hatred, Flick pushed her ass backward to meet his thrusts. She stared straight ahead at the large mirror mounted on the bedroom wall. The glass captured her humiliating position, reflecting the image of a bimbo maid getting fucked by an older man. Flick watched her own face, maintaining a sultry O-shaped expression as she took the fucking. Her blonde hair bounced around her shoulders, her oversized lips parted in a constant state of vocal pleasure.

Look at me, Felicity thought, staring into her own vacant eyes. I look like a mindless bimbo whore.

“Tell me who you belong to,” Giles demanded, grabbing a handful of her blonde hair and pulling her head back.

“I belong to you, Monsieur,” Flick gasped in her breathy accent, batting her eyelashes at her reflection in the mirror. “I’m your obedient little maid. I exist to serve my sexy husband.”

“That’s right,” the man chuckled, releasing her hair and gripping her waist to speed up his pace. “You’re a dumb little fuckhole for me to use. You don’t have a brain in that dumb, blonde head of yours, do you?”

“Non, Monsieur,” Flick agreed, her voice pitching higher into a submissive squeal. “I’m just a, ahhh, a stupid whore.”

Flick let out a breathy giggle, maintaining eye contact with her own reflection as Giles thrust his hips forward. The CFO slid his hands up her flat stomach, running his palms over the white ruffled apron before grabbing her chest. He squeezed her fake tits, dragging his thumbs across the bra to pinch her erect nipples.

“You love getting used like a filthy cumbucket,” Giles grunted, his breathing growing ragged as he slammed his pelvis against her rear.

“Oui, Master,” Flick cried out, kicking her stiletto heels against the mattress. “Use my dirty slit! Fuck your maid!”

This is my reality, the trapped woman thought, watching the dumb smile stretched across her face in the glass. I am trapped in this body.

Giles reached a hand down between her legs, finding her swollen clit and rubbing the sensitive flesh in a rough rhythm. The physical sensation sent a shock of pleasure through Flick’s body. She arched her back further, offering a loud, theatrical moan as the conditioned response took over her actions. Her blonde hair swung back and forth, her body operating on the ingrained programming Sam had installed. She couldn’t stop her hips from rocking backward to meet his thrusts. She couldn’t stop her mouth from begging for more degradation.

“I’m going to cum,” Giles announced, his grip tightening on her breasts.

“Fill my pussy, Monsieur,” the blonde gasped, her fat lips parting wide in the mirror. “Pump your cum deep inside your stupid slut!”

Giles let out a loud groan and drove his cock deep into her wet slit. He held her hips tight against his groin, filling her with his seed. Flick shrieked in exaggerated pleasure, her body shuddering with a forced wave of ecstasy. She kept her eyes locked on the large mirror, watching the vacant bimbo before her moan in inescapable lust.

Sam has won, the orgasming woman thought in a moment of clarity, the despair settling over her mind as she stared at the glass. Nobody is coming to save me. This is my life now.

Flick giggled and batted her eyelashes at her reflection, eager to serve her husband and keep him satisfied, for now and always, till death do they part.

The End.