Chapter 2

Veronica didn't know if she should do this or not. Yet she felt so rotten all the time she knew she had to do something to change her life drastically. Last night with Stan should have been the best fucking ever. It should have been. He was turned on in a big way and the memories from her own wedding night had come back strongly enough to allow her to get off once - just once.

The word rattled inside her head. Once. Only after they'd been married had she been able to get off a dozen times or more. The climaxes had come like a string of firecrackers going off. But that happened no longer.

Now she had to be content with a single come.

And even this was denied her most nights they fucked. Veronica knew that she had to do something. And maybe answering the ad in the newspaper would do it.

Stan didn't like the idea of her finding a job. So, she thought, she just wouldn't tell him she was going out looking. Maybe if she found a job she could recover some of the feelings lost in her marriage. Maybe she could drive away the boredom stalking her constantly.

Veronica knew she should have enjoyed the hell out of the fucking Stan had given her last night. And she had - for a few seconds. That convinced her she wasn't totally around the bend. There was still life left in the trim, sleek white body she possessed. Getting out into the world, meeting people, finding new interests, maybe all that would revitalize her so she could enjoy the wondrous things in life - like Stan's huge prick.

Acme Manufacturing Company, the ad read.

Her bright blue eyes skimmed down the small ad until she came to the bottom.

"So, Acme it is," she said to herself. "They need a secretary - and I'll give 'em the best damn one in the whole world. Me!"

She finished off her coffee, made sure Stan had left for the office, then went and dressed in her new brown tweed suit. She studied herself briefly in the mirror and knew she was a knockout.

"That job's as good as mine," she said confidently. And out she went to land it.

"Well, Mrs. Hines," said Mr. Marshall, the director of personnel, "these are hard times. Recession. Lots of people out of a job. We have more people wanting this single job than you can imagine."

"But I'm qualified," Veronica protested, leaning forward slightly. "I can do the work. I want to do the work."

Mr. Marshall leaned back in his chair, as if seeing her for the first time. His eyes raked over the impudent swell of her tits pushing against the thin blouse under her tweed jacket. He hadn't missed a single sway of her womanly ass or the slender, smoky flash of her pantyhose-clad legs as she'd come into the room.

His cock began swelling as he eyed her.

"We need team players, Mrs. Hines. Do you understand what I mean?"

"I'll do whatever I can for the company," Veronica said slowly. The blue-eyed blonde had the uneasy feeling he was watching her like a snake watches a bird.

"It goes beyond that. We get lots of women as qualified as you are. You need to show me something... extra. You need to show me you can work on my team, do things for me... as well as the company," the portly man added hurriedly.

"I don't understand," Veronica said slowly, afraid that she did understand. He wasn't going to give her the job unless she put out for him.

"Come, come, Veronica," he said, taking the liberty of calling her by her first name. "You're not stupid. I can see that. And I can see much more. You know what I mean." Mr. Marshall licked his lips and stood up, the bulge obvious in his pants.

Veronica didn't know what to do. She could leave, but she wanted the job. It seemed perfect. But to put out for such a pig!

The slight delay spurred Mr. Marshall on. He came over and laid his hand against her cheek, stroking lightly.

"So lovely. I'll bet you have a damned near virgin-tight pussy, too. Don't you, my dear?"

"Burn in hell, you slimy toad!" she cried, recoiling from his hand as if he'd burned her.

She read the anger in his eyes and tried to run. She only got a couple steps before he caught her. He spun her around, his fingers gliding out to the collar of her blouse. He dipped down the neckline and grabbed. With a savage jerk, he sent the buttons skittering to all corners of the room. Her naked tits bobbed into view.

"Mr. Marshall! You can't do this!"

"I can and I will. You come on so damned strong. You one of those goddamn Women's Lib types wanting to push men around? You a cock-teaser, you sultry bitch? I'll show you what it takes to make it around Acme Manufacturing!"

His fingers locked like steel bands on her arms. She fought, but it did no good. He lifted her like a rag doll and carried her to the small couch near the far wall of the office. He dumped her unceremoniously on the sofa. She felt the springs protesting the sudden load. Before she could get her feet under her to roll away and escape, Mr. Marshall was beside her.

"I'm gonna tie you up and show you what I want from a team player at this company. Maybe you'll get the idea so I don't ever have to fuck you like this again."

Veronica gasped when he pulled loose the curtain sash and looped it around her left wrist. He knotted the cord at the leg of the sofa. No matter how much she fought, he was heavier and stronger. He soon had both her hands bound above her head.

By the time she thought about kicking, he was ready to fasten her ankles to the legs of the couch. He didn't bother to strip off her brown tweed skirt. He just rolled it into a tight band around her waist, exposing her stocking-clad legs. He went ahead and tied her ankles securely, leaving the blonde woman half naked and helpless on the sofa. He looked down at her and lightly brushed his fingertips over one of her trembling nipples.

"You get off on this, don't you, you common slut? Well, I'll show you what a real man can do. I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before. And you're gonna love it."

Veronica fought against the ropes. The more she struggled, the tighter the knots became. She felt the circulation cutting off her hands and feet. Naked to the waist, she thought she was at least going to escape having him fuck her. If he tried to untie her legs to get her skirt off, she could kick him away.

Mr. Marshall came back with a large pair of scissors. He shoved the sharp-pointed instrument next to the girl's tender- fleshed leg. She cringed and tried to get away. She couldn't. The ropes held her too securely. He pressed the scissors into her skin and began cutting away her pantyhose. She gasped when he reached her thigh, her skirt bunched up around her waist.

He was so close to her cunt!

"Please, Mr. Marshall, let's talk about it. We can -"

"We've talked. It's time I did something."

He began cutting across her snatch. She felt the cold metal blades pressing against her cunt lips. He had caught her bikini briefs and sheared them away at the same time.

By the time he was all the way down her other leg, the lovely young woman was totally naked on the sofa. Never had she felt more helpless in her life. She watched a man she thought she knew tower over her and menace her.

"Now we fuck," he said.

She shivered with cold and fear. His hands caressed her belly, moved to the blonde tangle of her pussy mound. He grabbed a handful of her fleecy cornsilk pubic hair and jerked. She screamed as her hips lifted involuntarily off the sofa.

"This is the way I want your hips to be when I'm ready to fuck your cunt. Do you understand?"

"Mr. Marshall, please, don't do this to me."

"Do you understand?" he demanded again.

He pulled harder on the handful of pussy fur he held. She though she would go out of her mind with pain. It had been rough when she'd lost her cherry when she was only fifteen, but the pain had been nothing like this. She had loved the nearness of cock then and, in spite of her misgivings, she had thought any cock in her body was better than getting none.

But this was torture. The man who should have been interviewing her for the job was misusing her - abusing her!

"Yes, oh God, Mr. Marshall, stop! Don't do it to me! Not like this." She began to sob quietly. The tears ran down her cheeks. She wanted to reach out and wipe them away, but with her hands bound over her head, she couldn't.

She had to watch Mr. Marshall slowly undress. He peeled out of his shirt and showed his sagging chest, gleaming with the sweat of exertion from tying her up. As he shucked out of his pants, she was surprised to see his hard-on. It quivered and jerked at attention in front of his crotch. She had been expecting him to force her to suck on it to make it hard. But his cock was already a fully functioning fuck stick.

He threw away the last of his clothes and jumped onto the couch. Veronica groaned as the springs bounced under her. This caused her arms and legs to feel as if they would be pulled out of their sockets. She didn't know if she was more scared or more turned on.