Delilah

It was a nervous tick, spinning her wedding ring around on her finger. She’d picked up the habit ever since Tom had slipped it onto her hand and sealed their vows with a chaste, family-friendly kiss. Whenever she was worried and overthinking, she’d catch herself spinning the little band of gold, watching the fire opal flash with an iridescent rainbow of color each time it caught the light. Normally, she would have stopped herself as soon as she noticed it, and then turned her mind away from whatever she was obsessing over. Just then, however, Delilah felt the nervous anxiety knotting her stomach was more than justified.

She spun her wedding ring again, and then glanced up at the almost silent clock ticking away on the wall behind the desk of Mr. Dearborne’s far-too-young secretary. He’d kept her waiting almost fifteen minutes already. How much longer was she willing to sit there? She’d called Tom well in advance to tell him she’d be home late, so he wouldn’t be worrying or wondering just yet. Still, that was fifteen minutes she couldn’t get back, or waste in trying to sway her husband’s new boss to seeing things her way.

The merger was supposed to have been good for them. That’s what had been promised by the board and all the C-level management. Sentinel Communications was going to swoop in save their floundering communications firm, it was a partner-ship that would benefit everyone, no one would have to worry about being displaced or losing their jobs. And yet, there she sat, worrying about Tom’s job because of a wave of mass layoffs.

Delilah sighed, and spun her ring again. She didn’t blame them, really. It was a classic mistake in business, and one she’d pointed out to Tom many times over while he’d complained and vented his frustrations about the company. The founders had over-hired, and because their salary rates were well under national average, they’d collected a staff that was underqualified, or overqualified and pissed off that the wages never went up as had been promised, on top of a bloated management team that out-weighed their hourlies. Trimming the fat off of a failing company was just good business. But her husband was part of that bloated management team, and despite how good he was at what he did, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t be next to get a severance check and a pat on the back on his way out the door.

Green eyes so pale they seemed translucent, flicked up to look at the clock again. Seventeen minutes waiting. Delilah hadn’t been planning on spending all night seducing and fucking her husband’s boss in the first place, but she was beginning to hope Dearborne was a one-pump and things would be over very quickly. Maybe that would be better on many levels. Not only would she not have to keep up the act for very long, but maybe he’d be embarrassed enough to be a little extra protective of Tom’s job. Just a little tit-for-tat trade. Her body for his assurance that her husband would always have a place at Sentinel Communications.

Yeah, she’d thought it was crazy the first time it had crossed her mind, too. But, why not? She was a good-looking woman in her prime and aware of her affect on men. Not that Delilah was vain or arrogant about it. Their stares and that full-body onceover when they were mentally taking her clothes off were simply hard to miss. Why not use what she had to offer?

“Mrs. Davis?” Lydia, the curly-haired blonde perched behind the wide desk peeked around her flat-screen monitor at Delilah. “Sorry about the wait, Mr. Dearborne will see you now.”

Delilah spun her wedding ring once more and debated taking it off. It was a way of stalling. She swallowed the butterflies that threatened to make her tuck-tail and run, and then decided to keep the ring on her finger, where it belonged. Maybe debasing herself to this level was undignified, but she would at least act like she had some dignity left.

“Thank you, Lydia,” Delilah smiled at the other woman as she stood and brushed the wrinkles out the skirt of her sleek, simple dress. “I may just go in?”

“Yes,” the blonde said from behind her monitor, no longer really paying attention, “just let yourself in. He’s waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” Delilah said again, because it seemed appropriate, but there was no answer from the secretary. Feeling much more awkward than she’d expected, the tall brunette rubbed her hands against her hips to dry her palms, squared her shoulder, and made the short walk to Mr. Dearborne’s office door.

By the time her hand settled on the handle she could feel her pulse in her neck, her heartbeat already far quicker than it should have been. A mixture of excitement and revulsion twisted her stomach into a tight knot. Some corner of her mind that was a much more rational creature demanded that she stop, turn around, and go home to her husband. It wasn’t too late to just walk away.

“Having trouble with the door?” Lydia’s tone was snide.

Delilah made herself smile, “No, not at all. Sorry, just getting my ducks in a row.”

It was the secretary’s patronizing look that chased Delilah through the door. She twisted the handle, shoved the heavy door open, stepped inside, and shut it quickly behind her. There, she was on the other side. It was done. Decision made. Somehow, that cleared the fog of self-doubt that had been nagging at her heels, and Delilah straightened back to her full height.

At 5’9” flat-footed, standing in three-inch heels put her eye-to-eye with most men. Piling her dark hair into up-dos made her seem even taller, and had the added benefit of bearing her long neck and slender shoulders. The dress she’d picked was a classic black sheath that ended in an A-line skirt at mid-calf, helping to further accentuate her tall, elegant silhouette. The delicate fabric fit tight to her curves, but a slit up the back of the skirt let it flow as she walked, highlighting the shape of her body without exposing every mystery of its shape too soon.

The only jewelry she’d worn was her wedding ring and plain, pearl earrings. Her only accessory was the utilitarian handbag she took with her everywhere, and she'd left that in the little waiting area. Maybe what she was about to do would make her a whore, but Delilah had decided that didn't mean she had to look like one.

“Mr. Dearborne,” she greeted the man as she neared his desk and held out her hand, fully expecting him to stand and accept it. “I know you’re a busy man, so let me first thank you for seeing me. I hope I will make it worth your while.” Delilah took a breath, hesitated, and then felt a smirk playing with her lips and allowed it to twist up the left corner of her mouth. “I hadn’t planned on being so blunt, but now that I am here…”

Mrs. Davis’s voice trailed off and her words were left hanging in the air. Mr. Dearborne, she had just learned as he looked at her, was an extremely attractive man. Sharp features surrounded sharper eyes that looked as if they not only saw straight through her, but had no time or tolerance for foolery or fluff. He couldn’t have been much older than herself, and certainly was not what she expected of a comfortably successful and well over-paid VP. She’d built up the image of a man that regularly had escorts on his arm because paying for them was his best option, the kind of men that kept snotty, rude, too-young-for-their-position and sexy-as-sin secretaries.

Dearborne was not that, and even sitting down, she could tell that impeccably tailored suit was doing a good job at hiding a fairly impressive example of the male form.

A shiver that might have been fear slid down Delilah’s spine, and her throat worked to swallow the hysterical laughter that threatened to slip around a lump that had lodged there. This was a man that could likely pick up any woman he wanted, and she was going to seduce him into fucking her in return for Tom's job security?

Deli, she thought, you’re a goddamn idiot.

Marcus

Instant messenger was one of the best tools ever invented between a secretary and their employer. It turned them into far more effective gatekeepers. Lydia had informed Marcus of Mrs. Davis' arrival and had been keeping a running commentary on her. A webcam discreetly pointed towards her even gave him a good view. The woman was dressed to impress, or more, given Lydia’s comments. He noticed her spinning her wedding ring about nervously, going increasingly nervous as time dragged on. He looked down at his screen as another message appeared.

"She is trying the same thing I did. If I had any sympathy I would warm her, but I don't. Please tell me I get help train her."

Marcus could not help but smile wickedly. Lydia indeed had tried four years ago to seduce him to get a job position she really wanted. It did not work out exactly the way she planned, and had been given the choice all who thought they could play him like a cheep fiddle, join the Society or loose her job. It was the need of money which caused her to attempt the seduction in the first place. She was given the standard five year contract. She railed against it for near six months. She lasted longer than most, but like many others whose contract was owned by the Society, was eventually tamed and broken to task.

It did not take too long for Lydia to embrace her new role. She became a truly depraved slave, nothing was taboo to her and she proved herself to "Master" time and time again. At group events she became one of the more memorable and popular fuck dolls.two years became one of the trusted slaves of the group, allowed to "play" with the husband's of house slaves, and train new slaves. She was very good and he suspected when her contract was up next year, she would willingly rejoin the Society as a Mistress. He gave a rueful shake of his head and typed out in response.

"Let us see if you are correct. If so, then yes, you will get to break her in if she decides to join the Society. Send her in."

He was surprised more then a few minutes passed before the door opened. He did not look up from his work, knowing it was a power move on his part and allowed him to control the upcoming conversation from a position of strength. He heard her talk and it looked like Lydia would indeed be training their newest house slave. It was not too difficult to determine why she was here. With the merger they were pairing down the management boat their recent acquisition had. She was worried about her husband's future. He did not know if the husband had sent her. He was willing to learn he did not know how she had been playing with her wedding ring, yet had no reluctance at all to make her opening play.

He smirked as her voice started to drop off. She did not know what he looked like and was likely expecting some middle aged man with a paunch for a gut. He stood up and as he did, buttoned up his suit jacket. Marcus stood up to his full 6'2" height. His jacket did not strain on his broad shoulders, but it did not hang on him either, and hinted at a powerful physique under his clothing. His eyes were a deep, rich brown, almost as dark as fertile farm soil. He did not take her hand but walked about his desk, and circled her.

His eyes drank her in, and he had to admit she was stunning, and her dress displayed all of her best attributes. Already he was undressing her with his eyes, in his mind, seeing her nude. In his mind she was already presenting herself, ready for his command. He was hoping she would become part of the Society. He would have a lot of fun with her. He could tell by the way she dressed and how she carried herself she thought she was attractive and had a sexual allure. Oh how little did she know but he would be very happy to teach her the error of her ways and show her what true sex was.

He walked about her now, his fingers starting at a hip and raking along, pressing the tips of his fingers in as he moved behind her. The danced over top the oft neglected erogenous zone on the small of her back, skillfully playing the area like a master musician. They moved over to the other side of her. He let the finger circle about her hipbone before laying his hand flat overtop her navel. Slowly, oh so slowly, he moved his hand up between her breast, the outside of his hand and the base of his thumb brushing against the inner slopes of her breasts.

His hand did not stop and he used it to gently, yet firmly, cupped her chin. He applied pressure to have her head tilt up so she was looking right at him. His gaze was intense as he stared down at her. The pad of his thumb would slowly rub lightly upon her ripe lips. His voice was pure sex, pure sin and pitched just so it would be felt straight down to her sexual core. "You were saying, my dear? Please do continue. You have my complete and undivided attention now."