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Brenda and Eddie Ch. 01

By: pervinplainpackage



I sat in the outer office of the Norman Creed, our company comptroller, and waited for him to finish with his prior meeting. He had called me here late Friday afternoon, just as I was leaving my office, and I was anxious to get home. My wife and I had a romantic getaway weekend planned, and the drive was going to take a few hours. I was more than ready to get packed, get a bite to eat, and maybe get in a quickie before we left. With each passing minute it looked like the quickie was going to have to wait.

I had been the division manager at Electrocorp for the past five years, having moved into the company after being a lead consultant on the company's last expansion project. Electrocorp wasn't a major company, but it had a solid niche as a provider of specialty electronic devices to manufacturing businesses worldwide. It was a good job with good pay, and while Electrocorp was the biggest employer for five or six counties in every direction, it didn't exactly make me a "captain of industry." 

I was comfortable with my situation. I had good prospects, too. Most of my peers considered me the logical person to replace the Vice President of Finance if he became CEO when our current CEO retired in a couple of years. It all seemed like a pretty good deal, only a few more years and I'd be on the corporate team, eligible for the big options and stock bonuses that the company officers all received.

But my wife Brenda was getting impatient with the pace of my rise in the company, she wanted to enjoy the lifestyle of an executive sooner rather than later. She kept urging me to be more aggressive in seeking out promotions and opportunities to move more rapidly. Mostly I think she wanted me to make enough money to quit her job and still maintain, or even expand, our affluent lifestyle. I tried to convince her that patience and a laid-back approach would work better than aggression with the executive team at Electrocorp, but she was starting to get on my case about not being motivated enough. She had grown up in this area of the country, and I think a large part of her motivation was to join the "upper tier" of society in the country club set. Her family had always teetered on the edge of poverty, and she wasn't going to be content until she made it all the way to the top.

She had always been more driven then I was, in every aspect of our lives. We met when I was the lead consultant designing a new product line for Electrocorp. I lived in Boston, where I had grown up, and commuted by plane every week to Middle America to lead this job. It sounded a lot more glamorous than it really is, and it was really a lot more hard work than I was interested in at that point in my life.

Brenda was a junior staff accountant, a product of the regional community college accounting program. She was still fairly new to the company herself, and our consulting assignment required a lot of her assistance as we put together different financial scenarios. Brenda is a strikingly beautiful, lean, tall redhead with copper colored hair to the middle of her back and killer legs. I've always been a leg and foot guy, a bit of a fetishist actually, and Brenda was any leg man's ultimate dream.

When we first got to know each other, though, Brenda was always "all business". She seemed to wear her modest diamond engagement ring and dark framed reading glasses as a shield against guys like me, or so I thought. And I was trying to decide between two other women at the time—one local and one in my hometown. I wasn't really looking for additional complications in my life. I figured Brenda would always remain an object of hot fantasies, but nothing more.

The night our relationship started the two of us were working very late, as we often had. It was in the same office that now belonged to the comptroller. At the time it was vacant and we had it set up as the consulting team headquarters. I remember her leaning over the desk looking for some papers...dressed in a blue business suit with a white satin blouse and matching white pantyhose. She had taken her shoes off and was stretching up on tiptoes to get a stack of papers from the other side of the desk. My gaze drifted down her legs and my mind was set to wandering, imagining what it would be like to suck on her pretty toes and lick my way up those killer legs. Her stocking covered feet were driving me nuts.

I usually stopped myself in these little reveries before they had any effect, or before I was caught, but this time I guess I was tired because I let myself fantasize long enough to grow an erection in my pants. Since I wore boxers under my silk suit, there was little I could do to cover up without making it more obvious, so I just hoped she wouldn't notice. Not that I had much to notice...fully erect my cock is only three inches if measured generously, and my balls are small as well. 

Just so you don't get the wrong impression, my package is the only undersized part of my body. I'm 6'2" and very muscular. Maybe I was psychologically overcompensating for having a small prick, but I spent most of my youth focused on athletics and body building, including liberal use of steroids. I had a dream of being in the NFL, and at one time that dream looked like it might be in reach. I started on a big name college football team as a defensive end, and I had both knees blown out in a career ending injury on a illegal chop block in my last bowl game. After a good number of only somewhat successful surgeries, I knew I'd never have the speed or agility that would have made me a strong late-round draft pick, so I went off the steroids and decided to focus on a less intensive career where my good looks and easy-going personality would serve me well. I'm considered a very handsome man, and at one point I had some agents talking to me about getting me cast in a superhero role in a movie, but those things never really panned out.

I thought Brenda probably hadn't noticed my little tent in my pants, because she took the stack of papers she was reaching for and sat down with them on the chair opposite mine. She seemed to be paying no attention to me at all, flipping through the large stack of papers. I went back to my work, glancing up at her occasionally to see what I could see.

She seemed to be having a hard time finding a comfortable position in the overstuffed blue leather armchair, because she continuously folded and unfolded her legs, and shifted from one position to another, all the while never lifting her gaze from her paperwork. Finally she seemed to settle on a position where she was slightly slumped in the chair, with her legs straight out in front of her, the soles of her pretty feet pointed straight at me. This position hiked her skirt slightly up on her thighs, so I had a better view of her legs and feet than I had all night. The effect was immediate. My erection, which I had hoped would subside, grew to throb and twitch under my pants. I was captivated looking at her, and wasn't getting any work done at all.

Then she did me in...she started alternately flexing, stretching and arching one foot, then the other. I found that couldn't shift my gaze, even if I had wanted to, and I began to fear that my cock would start to leak pre-cum with all the visual stimulation I was getting. At one point I think my mouth had fallen open and I was unconsciously working my tongue against the roof of my mouth imagining sucking those darling little toes. It was at that point she spoke, jarring me out of my reverie.

"Eddie, I'm sorry, I seem to be...distracting you...making it hard for you...to work." She was looking me straight in the eyes, and I'm afraid at this point I was blushing hotly, as much from arousal as from embarrassment. "I'll put my shoes back on...."

"No!" I blurted out with too much enthusiasm..."I mean, no...you don't have too, I was just thinking about the project...I mean I was kind of absently...I'm sorry if I seemed too...." I had no idea where I was going with what I was saying, but my eyes drifted away from hers and back down to her legs.

"Oh," she said, sounding a bit disappointed, "I thought maybe I was distracting you by stretching my feet and toes. Spending the whole day in those high heeled pumps can just make them ache." She set her papers and eyeglasses aside and bent over at the waist, slowly running her hands down her legs to her feet. After rubbing both feet she grasped her left foot in both hands and brought it up to her thigh to massage it more seriously. This spread her legs further and hiked up her skirt even more, and I could nearly see up all the way to her crotch. If the light had only been better....

She looked back at me again..."You're sure this doesn't bother you too much? I know it's not very professional...." I couldn't keep eye contact. My attention was riveted to her legs and feet.

"Umm, yes, I mean, no, it's not too much." I usually was much smoother and in control, but she had me worked up and I wasn't able to keep myself composed.

"Could you do me a favor?" she asked innocently.

"Sure."

"Let me know if I'm being presumptuous, but I think I'm getting to know you better with all this work we're doing together. You're an athlete and all, and you have such nice hands. Are you any good at massage?"

"Well no, it's not presumptuous...I've actually taken massage classes, and my girlfriends have all said I have a good touch" I said hopefully.

She folded her knees up to her chest and starting rubbing both feet. "These new shoes are killing me...would you mind giving me a foot rub, and maybe massage my calves a bit? I'm afraid I can't work too much longer tonight without some relief."

"No! errr, Yes...." I was dumbstruck. "It's no problem at all. I'd love to give you a foot job...rub! Foot rub. Sure, no problem." I was trying to keep my act together, but it wasn't really working.

She was giggling at my verbal miscue. "Well slide over then...this chair isn't going anywhere."

I wheeled my task chair over toward her, and as I did she slid a little farther down in her chair, pushing the hem of her skirt up almost to the tops of her thighs. She extended her feet toward me and I parked myself at a distance where she could rest her heels on my thighs.

She closed her eyes and sighed as I took one graceful perfect foot into my hands and started to kneed out all the pain and the tension. My cock was throbbing away, and since she had her eyes closed I didn't take any action to try to suppress my arousal, focusing all my attention on her gorgeous legs and feet.

I kept working on the first foot, working my strong fingers smoothly up and down, and between her stocking covered toes as best as I could, until I could feel her tension completely evaporate. By the time I finished she was cooing softly. 

I moved to the other foot and she responded with a deeply contented sigh. This time I started on her perfectly polished toes, but the pantyhose was too tight and I was having trouble getting my fingers between them properly. I wasn't going to say anything, hoping that I could compensate so that she wouldn't get frustrated and call off the massage. Instead, she opened her eyes and quietly said, "hmm, that's not really working, is it."

I had to confess "No, not really, I think the stockings are tighter for some reason on this side." I was resigned to wrapping it up at that point. She sighed with disappointment and dropped her feet to the floor and began to sit up. I figured she'd probably be calling it a night so she could go home and take a hot bath.

Instead she said, "Well, turn around and promise not to peek and I think I can fix it. It would be no fair for you to give me one marvelous foot job, and leave the other untouched...." She smirked when she intentionally repeated my earlier verbal miscue.

I spun around in my chair and closed my eyes tightly. This situation was going exactly according to fantasy and I didn't want to do anything to mess it up. I heard the rustling of her clothes and the sound of nylon sliding across her porcelain skin, then the sound of the cushion of the big leather chair being compressed as she sat back down. 

"Okay, you can turn around now and open your eyes." I spun back around and she was sitting barelegged on the chair, her knees tightly together, her pale skin contrasted against the blue leather of the chair and the dark blue of her skirt. Her white, sheer-to-waist, seamless pantyhose lay in a little pile on top of her high heels, next to the chair. I felt that I had gone to heaven.

She scrunched down in her chair again, more carefully this time, holding the hem of her skirt so that it wouldn't ride up. Keeping both feet together this time she placed her heels gently back onto my thighs. As I looked down to take her foot in my hands and restart the massage I noticed that my pants had drawn tightly around my crotch and my hard-on was clearly outlined in the fabric. Worse, there was a dark wet spot developing with my pre-cum leaking from the tip. I just hoped she wouldn't notice and decide that I was getting too much pleasure from this experienceand call it off. So I tried to position her foot to block her view of my crotch as I massaged it.

Though she was clearly enjoying what I was doing this time she didn't close her eyes. Instead she seemed to be looking at me, watching me as I worked on her marvelous size sevens (I had taken a peek into her shoes earlier in the evening and noted the size). 

"You have a great touch...your girlfriends are right. I hope your current girlfriend won't be too jealous, but we are doing this to ensure my productivity, right? There's a legitimate business reason."

"Hmm, mmm," I agreed. I was lost in the pleasure of what I was doing, enrapt by her perfect legs and feet. Neither of my current girlfriends had such marvelous legs, and I think it was at this point that I decided that I couldn't again get involved with any girl whose legs weren't at least as nice as Brenda's. I had been instantly spoiled. I started to make a comment about her fiancé being jealous about what I was doing, but thought better of it. I didn't want her thinking about anything except what I was doing right then, and I certainly didn't want to bring up the subject of her fiancé. 

"Well, just keep that up, and I'll be ready to get down to it again when you are done." She closed her eyes and slunk down in her chair a bit more, keeping the hem of her skirt in place and leaving her hands folded in her lap. Without her hose on, she seemed more self conscious about controlling my view up her skirt. I wasn't too disappointed, though, I was in paradise on the far end of her legs.

By the time I finished with her other foot, she had gone from cooing softly to a more audible purr of contentment. "I'll do your calves now, if you still want?" "Oh yes, I want...I certainly do want...."

I moved my hands up the same leg I had just been working on, pushed my chair a little closer to her and lifted her leg slightly to give me better access to her shapely calf. I was hoping that this angle would allow me a peek up her skirt, but she kept that view blocked by pressing her creamy thighs together and holding the front of her skirt down.

I kneaded all the tension out of her muscular calf, then placed it on my thigh to go to work on the other one. Since I had scooted a bit closer to work up her legs, her foot now rested just inches from my over-stimulated, undersized cock. The wet spot had grown significantly, and if the view hadn't been obscured by her foot, she certainly would have seen it.

As I lifted her other leg to reach her calf she seemed to relax a bit, and slide down ever so slightly in to the chair. She opened her eyes and grinned at me. "You have marvelous, strong hands, Eddie. This is so relaxing." Brenda stretched the leg that I was holding and pointed her toes. "That feels so good...."

"Eddie, I have a serious question, and I'd like you to answer honestly" she said, looking me in the eyes.

"Okay...."

"Do I have pretty legs? Really, now, don't tell me what you think I want to hear, tell me what you really think. I can take it."

"Oh, my god, Brenda, you have the best legs I've ever seen."

"Really? That's so nice of you to say...its hard for me to judge these things myself."

"Really, truly."

"And what about my feet and toes, Eddie? I try to take good care of them...." She pointed the foot that I was holding again as she said this, and lifted it slightly so that it was just inches from my face. I was having a hard time talking, and an even harder time restraining myself from lifting her foot the last few inches and taking one of her perfect toes into my mouth.

"Perfect...Brenda...your feet and toes are simply, deliciously perfect."

"Mmmm...I'm glad you appreciate them, Eddie." She closed her eyes and stretched her other foot, and curled her toes. This closed the distance between her toes and my crotch, and for an instant her foot was in contact with the damp fabric at the tip of my cock.

"Oh!" she moved her foot aside in surprise and looked down at my crotch. I froze, not knowing what she would think.

"Oh, Eddie...you aren't one of those men who gets excited by a woman's feet and legs are you?" Her words were disdainful, but her tone was almost playful.

"Umm, Brenda...I...I mean....well, yes I guess I am."

"Hmmm. It looks as though you've gotten all hard and wet down there." She moved her foot back toward my crotch, deliberately, but slowly, ever so slowly. I released her calf from my grasp and was devoting all my attention to her foot as it got closer and closer to my engorged member. I really didn't notice that she was lifting her other foot closer to my face. Both made contact at the same moment...the toes of one foot pressing and almost clenching my stiff dick, and the big toe of her other foot pressing against my lips.

I voraciously sucked on the toe that was offered as my cock spurted and twitched with an ejaculation that soaked the front of my pants and rolled my eyes back into my head. I nearly passed out, and when I regained my senses I found that I was still hungrily sucking on Brenda's perfect little toes, though she had stopped grinding her foot into my crotch.

"Well," her tone was insistent, almost demanding now, "I've taken care of your problem. I think you need to see to mine."

She took her foot from my mouth and put it on the carpet in front of the chair. Then she took the other foot from my thigh and put it next to the other. She grinned an evil grin and started to ever so slowly slide her hips forward in the chair and spread her legs. Her hands, which had previously held the hem of her skirt down, now made sure that the skirt slid up her thighs, so that by the time her hips reached the edge of the cushion, her gorgeous, wet pussy came into full view. She had a neatly trimmed bush of the same fiery red color as the hair on her head. Her labia, thick and meaty and pendant, were swollen and parted, and her clit was just starting to peek out of its hood.

I started to rise and undo my belt...my cock was back at full erection and I thought that Brenda wanted to fuck. She stopped me.

"Keep your pants on, buster...I'm not interested in having that thing inside of me.... Now put those talented lips to work on my cunt." I immediately sank to my knees, parted her pubes with my fingers, and pressed my lips against hers. She shuddered as I traced my tongue from her perineum to her clit, and by the time I wrapped my lips around her clit and sucked it into my mouth, flicking it with my tongue, Brenda erupted in a loud throaty, guttural orgasm. I was very glad we were the only ones in the building that late at night.

She grabbed my hair with both hands and held my head between her thighs, pressing her hips so hard forward against my mouth that at times I thought I would suffocate. She didn't release me until she had guided me to three more gushing orgasms, each louder and wetter than the last. My face, my shirt, the chair cushion, and the carpet in front of chair were all sopping with her copious pussy juice. She pushed my head back and stood up, straightening her skirt and pulling down the hem. 


Brenda and Eddie Ch. 01



As I knelt before her, panting, exhausted and wet, she put her high heeled pumps back on to her bare feet, put her pantyhose into her purse, and bent over until her face was close to mine.

"That was very good, Eddie. But I'm afraid I'm too tired to work any more tonight. Thanks for a very nice evening. You might want to straighten up in here before you go back to your hotel tonight." Brenda took my chin in her hand and turned my face to kiss me gently on the cheek, then she strode out of the office, through the outer office, and down the hall.

As I watched her hips swaying under her tight skirt as she walked away, I realized I had fallen in love.

The next day, Brenda came to work without her engagement ring. We worked all day without saying anything about what had happened the night before. That evening, after everyone else had left the building; she sat down in the big blue leather chair and pointed to the ground in front of her. Without a word I sank to my knees. She kicked off her shoes and put her stocking covered toes in my mouth. She lifted her skirt and slid her fingers under the waistband of her sheer-to-waist black pantyhose. I watched as she diddled herself to several loud shuddering orgasms while I worshipped her feet. 

When Brenda had enough, she lowered her feet into my lap and pressed my crotch with her toes. In a matter of moments I ejaculated into my pants. Brenda put her shoes back on, kissed me on the cheek, and said good night.

Two weeks later, after we repeated this scene with minor variations every night, Brenda took my face in her hand to give me her goodnight kiss, and I intercepted it to put a large diamond engagement ring on her finger. She leaned forward and said, "Yes, Eddie, that would be nice. Goodnight." Then she walked away.

We were married in a small private ceremony a couple of months later. In the five years we have been together, my tongue has explored and excited every inch of her perfect body on a nightly basis. My cock has been in her pussy exactly twice, for perhaps a minute each time, before she pushed me back to my knees to finish her off the way she requires, and then she finished me off in her traditional manner with her perfect feet. My cock has never been anywhere near her mouth, even accidently, and though I've had my tongue in her ass on a regular basis, she won't allow penetration of that pristine orifice with anything at all...cock, finger or toy. In all this time, I've been perfectly happy with our marriage and our sex life, and I think she has too.

As I sat in the comptroller's outer office reminiscing about the way that Brenda and I started our relationship, and getting a bit of an erection, I was brought to my senses by the comptroller's secretary. "Mr. Tompkins...Mr. Tompkins...." Her voice had the exasperation of someone who had been trying to get my attention for some time. 

I turned toward her, "Yes, Ms. Cooper?"

"Mr. Creed will see you now."

"Any idea what this is all about, Ms. Cooper? 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 and (for the second time in this same exact location) my life changed forever. But that's another story.



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?"




Brenda and Eddie Ch. 02



We both responded simultaneously. "Yes, sir."

"Very good. Now for the first demonstration of your submission. Eddie, rise, stand in front of Brenda, and strip completely. Throw your clothes in a pile on the chair." I looked at Brenda for an instant, and she shot me a stern, yet pleading look that made it clear I should not hesitate.

"Yes, sir." I stood up and walked over in front of Brenda. I took off my suit coat, my shirt, and my undershirt and tossed them on the chair.

"Wait a moment, Eddie." Norman moved behind my wife and leaned toward her. "He does have an impressive build, doesn't he, Brenda?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, continue. Socks and shoes, then pants, but not underwear until I tell you."

I took off my socks and shoes, tossing them on top of the other clothes, then undid my belt and dropped my pants to the floor. Despite the shame and tension of the situation, I was starting to harden in my boxer shorts. My wife's face was closer to my cock that it had been in the entire length of our relationship, and the possibility that I might soon feel her lips or hands on it was enough of a turn-on to overcome the circumstances.

"He has good, strong legs as well, doesn't he Brenda?"

"Yes, sir."

"Though his knees are badly scarred. A result of the surgeries after that terrible football injury that brought an end to his promising NFL career before it even got started." He looked up at me, " Just think, Eddie, if not for that injury, you wouldn't be in the position you are in today. And speaking of positions, turn around before you drop your boxers, and after you discard them, bend over slightly and spread your ass cheeks. Face forward and don't look back, regardless of what happens behind you." 

"Yes, sir." I did as I was told, turning around and dropping my shorts, exposing my now fully hardened three inch cock and proportionately small ball sac to no one at all. I spread my cheeks as intructed and bared my most private body part to my wife and our tyrannical little master. My cock was betraying my conflicted excitement, as I continued to hope that this would result in some sort of intimate contact with my wife. I was glad as I exposed my anus that I had showered in the company gym after my lunchtime workout.

"My, my, my..." Creed began. "Now that sphincter may be the most impressive muscle on this man's marvelous body. Look at that tight little pucker. I'll bet that's a virgin opening...isn't it, Eddie?"

"Yes, sir." My cock began to wilt, as I started thinking that the type of intimate contact Creed had planned was not what I was hoping.

"How far do you think you could get one of your long, graceful fingers into that tight, un-lubricated asshole of his, Brenda? One knuckle, maybe two, perhaps all the way to three?"

"Not very far, sir, not without hurting him." I could feel my wife's breath on my ass as she answered.

"I'm not really interested in whether or not it hurts him. But since you seem to be, Brenda my dear, you had better lick it and get it nice and slippery for him." Before she could even say "Yes, sir" I felt my wife's pretty face between my ass cheeks, her lips pressed hard against my puckered hole. She seemed to mumble something at first, then I felt her tongue gently lapping at my sensitive ring of flesh and muscle.

"What's that Brenda? I can't really understand you in this position? Are you saying I shouldn't push so hard? I just want to make sure your darling husband's ass is nice and wet so that whatever goes up it won't hurt. Now stick your tongue up his ass as far as it can go, sweetie. Get it nice and wet way up there. This is much better treatment than he would ever get in prison. All manner of objects would be stuffed up that male vagina of his without any lube at all." I could feel my wife's tongue try to penetrate my ass, with little success. She kept working it, though, and eventually it felt like her tongue pushed passed the tight opening and perhaps an inch beyond.

While the feeling was exquisite this situation was exceedingly unusual. The mix of positive and negative feelings had me utterly confused. In the time we were married my wife had not once kissed any part of me except my face. She had never really wanted to see me naked, much less explore my body with her mouth. I regularly used my mouth and tongue over every inch of her delicious body, as she enjoyed this very much, but there was never a hint of interest in reciprocation. Usually, after pleasing her several times in the course of a session, I received a peck on the cheek after she gave me a footjob. Except on the rarest of occasions, I was fully clothed when I pleasured her, and when she brought me off with her delicate feet. 

Yet here she was with her head apparently being pressed between my ass cheeks by our company comptroller, jamming her tongue as far as it would go into my virginal backdoor. I felt oddly self-conscious and sorry for her at the same time that I was deriving significant pleasure from her humiliating act. A ribbon of pre-cum started to leak from the tip of my throbbing cock and slowly descend to the carpet below.

"Alright, that should be wet enough." Creed released my wife's head and walked back over to the desk near where I had been sitting. I didn't want to turn my head to look, since I was under orders to face forward, but in my peripheral vision it looked as though he picked something up off the desk and walked back over to Brenda.

"Here you go, sweetie, put this in your mouth and get it nice and wet for him."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, no, wait" he stopped her. "I see a better lubricant is making an appearance. I'll get this wet and then you stick it up his ass with the end of your tongue."

"Yes, sir."

"Keep your head up, Eddie my boy, eyes straight. No peeking." 

"Yes, sir."

I felt Creed grab my cock at the base between his finger and thumb, then apply something smooth and cool to the moistened tip. He then drew his thumb and finger forward to milk an extra drop or two of pre-cum and apply it to whatever he was holding.

"There's a good little boy, and I do mean little. I don't think I'd do all that bodybuilding if I were you Eddie. the bigger your body gets the smaller that little prick seems to look. I could probably have slipped this thing onto you with a little butter or oil. It's not much bigger than Brenda's ring finger, after all." Now I undestood that he had picked up his old engagement ring off the desk where I left it, and was now going to have my wife stick the cheap cum-coated trinket up my ass with her tongue.

"Okay, Brenda, open wide and stick out that pretty little tongue, just like you are taking communion. You are still Catholic, aren't you dear?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right, open wide. My, my, that tongue is actually bigger than Eddie's tool, I think. Maybe we should measure them both 'head-to-head'." I could hear Brenda gag slightly as he applied the ring to her tongue. "That won't do my dear, no gagging or choking. Don't tell me you've never tasted that before? Shake your head yes if you have tasted nice fresh spunk." He chortled in derision as she apparently shook her head 'no.' "Well, we'll work on that too. All in good time. Must walk before you can run. Now stick that thing up his ass before it dries up."

Again her head met my ass very hard, as he must have been pushing her into me. I felt the cool metal of the band slide up against my opening, but as much as Brenda tried, she couldn't push it in with just her tongue. He kept her face planted against my ass, though, and eventually it felt like she took the ring between her teeth and pushed it at least partway into my hole. She grunted something that sounded positive and he let go of her head.

"Lets see what we have here...." Creed let out a roar of laughter. When he was done laughing, he explained "Too bad you can't see this, little Eddie. It looks exactly like a ring bearer's pillow before the wedding."

"Okay, enough frivolity. Take your finger and push it the rest of the way up."

"Yes, sir." I tried not to squirm as my wife pushed the ring as far up into my rectum as she could with her finger.

"Now, the other two." 

"Fingers, sir?"

"No, you dumb bitch, the other two rings...the wedding rings on your finger...stuff them up his ass along with the one I gave you. Actually, that's a good idea, though, use two fingers this time." 

"Yes, sir." I tried not to wince or groan audibly as it felt like my hole was being ripped apart by her two fingers. It started out as a burning pain and then suddenly they both slid in deep and hard, all the way to the third knuckle.

"Okay, that's enough ass play for one day. Stand up, Eddie, but don't turn around."

"Yes, sir." I stood with my hands and my side, my cock still hard, and dripping clear thick droplets from the tip.

"You know, Eddie, that I dated your wife for several years before I gave her that ring that's stuffed up your ass. From our senior year in high school all the way through our graduation from college. The day after our graduation I proposed and she accepted. And we were engaged for another two years after that. Did you know all that, did Brenda tell you?"

"No, sir."

"I guessed she'd never say anything." He leaned against the desk next to me and spoke directly to me. "And it all that time we were together she never once touched my dick, or kissed me anywhere but on the cheek. I never even got to see her naked body, though I'm certain it's a wonderful sight to behold. She let me jack off while she diddled her little twat, but she always covered herself with her skirt, and she never once looked at my cock. Seven years and not once did she let me touch her, the frigid little cunt. Do you believe that, Eddie?"

"Yes, sir." 

"Good boy, Eddie, you're smarter than I thought." He laughed quietly to himself and walked back around to his executive chair and sat. My erection had subsided, but I was still leaking. He looked down at my tiny button of a soft cock and snorted. "Then she comes to me one day and says 'I don't think things are working out between us, Norman. I think we need some time apart.'" He looked up at me. "Then a couple of weeks later she gave that ring back to me, and simply said 'It's over, Norman. I guess I never really loved you at all.' And she walked away. Pretty cold, huh, Eddie?"

"Yes, sir." 

"She ever suck you Eddie?"

"No, sir."

"Ever give you a hand job?"

"No, sir."

"Have you ever even fucked your frigid, cold wife, Eddie? Have you ever dumped a load of your hot juice up that hole of hers?"

"We've...fucked, sir. But I've never cum inside her."

"She just make you jack off in your pants while she fingers herself, the way she did with me?"

"No, sir."

"Then what, little Eddie? What does she let you do with that tiny pecker that has kept you happily married all this time? What does she do for you that made you want to offer me your freedom so that she could keep hers?" Creed had gone from angry and aggressive to incredulous and honestly curious.

"She lets me kiss her all over and give her pleasure with my mouth, and then she rubs me off with her perfect feet, sir."

"Aw, how romantic...well it seems that you two were made for each other. You really are the perfect couple. She's perfectly selfish and you're perfectly stupid. Let's see if that is still true when I'm done with you." He motioned toward the chair. "Take a seat, Eddie, but not on the cushion. Straddle the arm of the chair. I want to make sure the rings don't fall out."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, once more, here's the deal. Like I said, you are mine, body and soul, but especially body. I actually care little for the soul part. That was an excellent demonstration you two provided. You were both very responsive and compliant. I bet you never imagined in your wildest fantasies that you'd have your tongue up your husband's ass one day, did you baby?" He looked at Brenda.

"No...no, sir."

"Well as long as our relationship continues this way we won't have any problems. When we are done signing papers here I'll have you taken to your new residence. I'm sure you'll quite like it, Brenda. It's the old Foster estate. I've had it renovated for you to live in, and to accommodate my needs as well." 

The Foster estate was one of the largest proterties around this small rural city, if not the largest. It had belonged to an old brewing family, but was abandoned during prohibition when the family fell on hard times. A commune had moved in and patched it up somewhat during the sixties, but as the hippie movement fell apart and they all got real jobs they moved out. A historical organization tried to renovate it as a museum, but nothing interesting had ever happened there, so no one came to visit. Then it lay dormant for a while, and about ten years back some foriegn investors bought it to try to run it into a conference center, but our town is really too far off the beaten track for people to attend conferences way out here in the middle of nowhere. It had been for sale for the last several years with no takers.

Creed continued, "I figure I can have a lot of fun with this for at least five years before I get bored and let you two off the hook, assuming you don't screw up and get sent to the big house in the meantime." He paused and looked at me. "During that time, you will continue to work here at Electrocorp, Eddie. You will take over for Roger, our Finance officer when he takes over the company leadership from Mr. Pendergast, and when Roger retires as CEO you will take over that position. That should all be within our time together. During that time I will collect all your income, and provide for your needs and Brenda's wants and needs, so long as you keep our arrangement. Brenda will resign her position effective immediately. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," we both said in unison. Brenda had her hands on her lap and was looking completely resigned. I was feeling entirely awkward, naked, with three metal rings up my ass, and sitting on the arm of a chair like a 10 year old.

He pushed the packets of papers toward us on then desk, then Creed leaned over to the phone and pressed the intercom button. "Ms. Cooper, could you please come in here and bring your notary seal, please?"

"Yes, Mr. Creed." My stomach began to churn. I had been so involved in our drama in this private office that I had assumed everyone else had gone home. Not only had Sharon Cooper not gone home, she was apparently in on the whole thing, either that or she was going to get the shock of her life when she saw a naked man sitting with his wife in her bosses office.

"Eyes down on the paperwork in front of you, Mr. Tompkins. You are not to look up or at Ms. Cooper unless instructed to do so. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

I heard the knob turning and Ms. Cooper coming into the room, and the sound of the door closing behind her.

"Grab a chair, would you, Sharon?" Creed was relaxed and businesslike with his executive assistant, as if this were an everyday occurrence. My face was burning from the heat of my blush. I kept my gaze down at the folder of papers in front of me. I had no idea how Brenda was reacting to all of this, afraid to look over at her for fear that I might catch Ms. Cooper's eye.

"Okay, Sharon. These papers should all be pretty much identical between the two. There are a couple of extra clauses in Ms. Miller's portfolio about pregnancy and paternity risks, and a resignation letter for her to sign. Essentially they are signing away their individual autonomy to take part in a project we will simply call 'the experiment.' They are providing me with power of attorney and all rights to manage their business and their estates while they are taking part in the experiment, and agreeing to the preliminary list of experimenters and investigators. Some of the documents need to be notarized, most need simply be witnessed, and others only need their signatures. The little red and green sticky tabs indicate the place that need signatures and witnessing. Yellow tabs indicate documents that need notarization. Okay, let's get started."

Ms. Cooper pulled up her chair between me and Brenda and opened up the black velvet bag containing her notary seal. Looking down at my papers I could see her crossed legs. She was flipping the back of one high heeled pump on and off and dangling the shoe on her toes. I started to lose concentration and again my erection returned as I drank in the vision of her long pretty legs, and caught sight of the delectable little toes that kept peeking out as she dangled. There was little I could do but hope that she didn't look at me, since my legs were spread on either side of the arm of the chair, and this left my cock bobbing and obvious in its hardness. If she did notice, she didn't say anything.

About halfway through the paper signing and notarization she let the shoe drop off entirely. At first she started to try to slip it back on, but she finally gave up and instead took the other one off as well. she rubbed her nylon covered feet together as we passed papers back and forth. By this point I was so hard that my cock had begun to throb, alternately lifting up off the arm of the chair, then slapping back down as the pulses of blood ran through it. A puddle of pre-cum was forming at the tip, and this made glistening threads of wetness between the leather and my member each time my cock lifted up. The stimulation of my skin against the slippery leather surface was only making matters worse. I tried thinking of everything I could to stop my growing excitement, but with my eyes cast down as they were, the wonderful source of stimulation was always in the center of my view.

To make matters worse, Ms. Cooper would fiddle with her slender gold Cross pen whenever she was idle in the signing process, which was often. At first she just held it in her lap and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, but then she began to hold the end of the pen in one hand, at a forty-five degree angle to the floor, and bounce it off the fingertips of her other hand, keeping exact time with the pulsing and slapping of my cock. Every time my cock touched down on the arm of the chair, she brought the pen to her fingertips, running them lightly up and down the golden shaft until the moment my cock lifted, when she would lift the pen as well. She was clearly paying attention to my tumescence. Knowing that she was looking at my cock and that she was probably exciting me on purpose made me even more excited. I had never been so close to cumming without touching myself in my life.

We finally got to the end of the paperwork, and I have to admit that I didn't read a single page. I only signed where I was told to sign. I did notice that there were a lot of names on the list of "experimenters", most of whom I didn't know, but I noted Ms. Cooper's name was prominent near the top of the list.

Brenda didn't finish signing until a good five minutes after I was done. She seemed to be reading more of the documents. Not that she was changing anything or refusing to sign, but apparently she was still looking for a loophole, or something. By the time she was done I thought she I heard her sobbing gently, but I didn't want to look over, and in fact I probably couldn't have torn my eyes off Ms. Cooper's legs even if I hadn't been under orders not to look up.

"That's all done, Mr. Creed. Will there be anything else?" Ms. Cooper packed up the notary seal and slipped her feet back into her shoes.

"Yes, Sharon. I've performed one brief demonstration experiment to test the subject's subservience and loyalty to me, but I would like you to run an experiment to test their extended loyalty to other researchers in the project."

"Hmmm," she pondered, rolling the pen between her fingers. "I have an idea. Mr. Tompkins signed away all conjugal rights with his wife for the time of the experiment, didn't he?"




Brenda and Eddie Ch. 02



"Yes, he did. But according to a post experiment interview I conducted, apparently there wasn't much to sign away." 

"Well I think it would be important to get an 'initial measurement' so to speak, so that we can analyze the differences that may occur after the experiment really gets under way. I think we should observe the couple in one last sexual interaction before all intentionally pleasurable mutual interaction is curtailed."

"An excellent idea, Ms. Cooper. I'll give you complete control of the subjects until you have completed your experiment. Brenda, Eddie, you will obey Ms. Cooper as you would obey me. You will address her as Ma'am, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right, Sharon, they are all yours."

"Good. Thank you sir." Ms. Cooper stood up and walked around my chair, then around Brenda's. I could feel her eyes on me as she came to a stop between us.

"Female subject, stand up." Ms. Cooper was apparently taking her role very seriously, and had decided to depersonalize us even more by addressing us as subjects.

"Yes, ma'am" I heard Brenda say, so quietly it was almost inaudible.

"Male subject, remain seated, but look up at the female subject." Ms. Coopers voice took on a clinical quality.

"Yes, ma'am." I turned my shoulders toward Brenda and looked up at her. Ms. Cooper had risen to stand behind my wife and turn her to face me. Streaks of mascara had run down her cheek, but there was no current evidence of tears. She appeared completely dejected. The red marks on her face from the slap had nearly faded. Brenda stared down at the floor in front of her.

Ms. Cooper walked over behind me. "Stand up and position yourself in front of the female subject, about two feet away, arms at your sides."

"Yes, ma'am." I stood as well as I could. The long period of straddling the arm of the chair had made it sticky with perspiration and pre-cum. I had to peel myself off with an audible noise like tearing fabric. A long shiny strand of clear ejaculate stayed connected to the chair and the tip of my cock all the way to my position in front of Brenda. It gradually stretched and finally broke, leaving a trail across the carpet and down my thigh.

"Female subject, it appears that your mate has a very fit body, and he is obviously in a state of arousal at the prospect of sexual relations with you. Is it true that you have never allowed your husband to consummate the sexual act in your vagina?"

"Yes, ma'am, it's true." Brenda was looking directly down at the floor in front of her, apparently trying to avoid looking at me. 

"Pity." Ms. Cooper stepped over toward me and used the clip end of her pen to point the tip of my cock at Brenda's face. She took Brenda's chin in her other hand and pointed her face toward my dick. "Your mate has a well shaped and attractive penis, though a bit on the small side." She ran the tip of her pen down the underside of my cock. "It should certainly be capable of bringing you pleasure given the right technique and position. You vagina should be very tight, given its lack of use. He is also apparently full of sexual fluids, from the evidence we see here." She let go of my wife's chin and used the tip of her finger to wipe a small drop of my juices from my cockhead. She raised her moistened finger to my wife's lips and smeared my pre-cum across them.

"Female subject, lick your lips."

"Yes, ma'am." With a barely hidden look of distaste, Brenda ran the tip of her tongue over her upper and lower lips.

"Very good." Ms. Cooper bent her knees and squatted down, bringing her head parallel to my hips. She used the clip end of the pen to raise my penis up to my belly and hold it there. With her other hand she reached up and took my balls lightly in her fingers. "Your mate's testes, while diminutive, seem to be fully functional as well. I take it by your reaction to the taste of his semen that you have never allowed him to ejaculate in your mouth, either?" As she spoke she rolled my balls between her fingers, gradually tightening her grip.

"No, ma'am, I've never allowed that." Ms. Cooper had by this time completely encircled the based of my scrotum with her thumb and fingers, and was beginning to squeeze even harder and tug down slightly. The warmth of her hand and the tugging was causing my ball sack to stretch.

"Also a pity." Ms. Cooper leaned forward and placed her lips just an inch from my cockhead, held firmly against my stomach by her pen. She stretched out the tip of her tongue and flicked a bit of liquid off the tip. I nearly came, but instead I just leaked a copius amount of clear fluid. "Quite an enjoyable taste, really. Mr. Creed, we need to make a note that we should harvest this subject's semen for further testing and experimentation."

"An excellent idea, Ms. Cooper. I'll put the collection in your hands, so to speak."

"Very punny, Mr. Creed. " Ms. Cooper let my cock drop back into its natural erect position, but kept her grip around my balls as she stood back up, using me to support and steady her, and pulling down on them quite hard. I bit the inside of my lower lip to keep from gasping in pain.

She placed her pen into her inside coat pocket, and withdrew a slender glass tube. As she turned it between her fingers I recognized it to be a thermometer. She shook it sharply to get the mercury down into the reservoir, and then held it out between Brenda and me.

"I'll need some temperature readings as we proceed with the experiment. Could you time three minutes from my mark, Mr. Creed?"

"Of course."

I opened my mouth to take the thermometer under my tongue, but Ms. Cooper squatted down again. She took the tip of my cock between her fingers and pressed the bulb of the thermometer against the tip of my opening. "I usually don't do this without lubricant," she said over her shoulder to Mr. Creed, "but this subject is self-lubricated." She slid the shaft of the thermometer down into the shaft of my cock, and it was the most incredible feeling I have ever had. She took my hand and placed in on my cockhead. "Hold that there, subject, don't drop the thermometer, and don't stimulate yourself. If you have an orgasm now the experiment will be over and you will have to be disciplined severely." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Over her shoulder she said, "mark, Mr. Creed. Three minutes." She stood up again, this time without bracing herself on my balls for support.

"Now," she continued, facing Brenda, "we need to get you more suitably prepared for the experiment while we wait for our temperature reading." Brenda was looking down straight at the floor in front of her again. "Well. it appears that the female subject is unwilling to look at her mate. Since that is the case perhaps an enforced sensory deprivation would be an interesting addition to the experiment." As she said this, Ms. Cooper untied the dark silk scarf she had tied around her neck, and walked around behind Brenda. She rolled the scarf and placed it over my wife's eyes, and tied it snugly at the back of her head.

"Female subject, can you see anything?" Ms. Cooper stood in front of my wife and examined the edges of the blindfold.

"No, ma'am, not really." 

"Well that will have to do. We will make sure to have proper blindfolds available for future experiments."  Ms. Cooper turned back toward me and bent over slightly to check that I was holding the thermometer in the proper fashion. As she did this I noticed that her ruffled 'V' neck blouse was in definite violation of the company cleavage policy, as it draped open and I could now see all the way down her chest to the undersides of her full, pale breasts. She was apparently not wearing a bra.

Satisfied with my position, she turned toward the desk and retrieved a large pair of precision scissors. She turned back toward me briefly, and I began to worry, but then stepped up to Brenda.

"It's not appropriate for the female subject to be clothed for this portion of the experiment. Hold still, while I remove these clothes." Instead of unbuttoning and unzipping Brenda's skirt and blouse, Ms. Cooper began by slipping the tip of the scissors under my wife's wide fabric waist cincher, and snipping it away. She tossed the ruined belt onto Brenda's chair. Then she bent down and placed the tip of the scissors between my wife's knees, making a single tiny snip. She grasped the skirt on both sides of the snip and roughly tore it upward and to the sides. The skirt split in half up the front, and Ms. Cooper tossed it aside. This left Brenda clad only in shiny grey pantyhose from her waist down to the sexy strappy heels on her feet. Her camisole and the tails of her blouse hung down to temporarily provide a makeshift short dress. 

"We'll leave the hose intact, for now." As Ms. Cooper circled behind my wife, holding the scissors and looking for the next point of attack, I noticed that Brenda was trembling slightly. I doubted it was from the cold, since I was completely naked and the room was comfortable to me, even a bit warm. It seemed my wife, always the picture of perfect composure in the time we had been together, was beginning to psychologically break down.

As I considered this, Sharon collected Brenda's long red hair in one hand and moved it from her back over my wife's right shoulder. She took the scissors and made a tiny snip at what seemed to be the back of Brenda's collar. In a rapid downward motion she tore the blouse in half, sending the buttons in the front scattering across the room, and leaving Brenda in only a short, light beige camisole that barely came down to her waist. Ms. Cooper circled my trembling bride once, then again, making snipping noises with the scissors and seeming unsure of the next point of attack. Brenda's small breasts pressed against the thin material of her camisole as she breathed nervously. Her nipples, which were quite long for her 'B' cup breasts, became increasingly erect under the smooth silky fabric.

Ms. Cooper finally made a decision, and stood directly in front of Brenda, between the two of us, facing my wife. She leaned forward and whispered something I couldn't hear. Brenda shifted her feet shoulder length apart, and Ms. Cooper stepped even closer, so that they were practically touching. Ms. Cooper was perhaps two inches taller than Brenda, so she bent her neck down and gently whispered "shhh, shhh, shhh, it's alright," as she guided the tip of the blade under the hem on the right side under Brenda's arm. Instead of snipping and tearing this time, Ms. Cooper kept the underside of the scissors in contact with my wife's skin as she gently, slowly snipped up and up, leaving the garment slit from bottom to top under my wife's arm. She then repeated this on the left side, again keeping the cool dull edge of the blade in contact with my lover's skin the entire way. The camisole now hung like a poncho over Brenda's shoulders, secured only by the thin spaghetti straps.  Ms. Cooper raised the scissors and cut the right strap, and the camisole fell away from my wife's right breast, exposing the hardened nipple to the air. She snipped the other strap, and the camisole fell to the floor in halves, leaving my wife naked from the waist up, and shivering. Brenda seemed to want to bring her arms up to cover herself, but instead kept them dutifully at her side.

"So, Mr. Creed. How long ago did three minutes expire?"

"Oh, Ms. Cooper," he chuckled. I'm afraid I became distracted and lost track."

Ms. Cooper chuckled. "It's okay, I was distracted too. Let's see what our subject's penile temperature is."

Sharon bent over, giving me another fine look at her breasts, and slowly, slowly removed the thermometer. The sensation of the glass tube coming out was just as intense as it had been going in. If she hadn't taken it out so slowly I certainly would have splattered Ms. Coopers breasts with cum.

She walked over to the desk and wrote something down on her steno pad. "We'll have to remember to get compete body measurements of the subjects soon, before we are too far into the experiment," she said to Mr. Creed. "I don't have the proper equipment with me, but we should do this in the next few days."

Sharon turned back to me and stood very close to my right shoulder, and looked over at Brenda. "So, if the male subject were forced to choose one final act of sexual congress with his mate before the experiment were to begin, what would it be? The full supple mouth? The tight, wet vagina? Or the puckered rosy hole of her perfect backside? From what we have learned, two of these entrances are virginal. There is a certain thrill to claiming your own wife's virginity in this way. It is especially poignant because, by the end of the experiment, your wife will have no virginities left for you to take. None." Ms. Cooper looked back and me with a questioning smirk. 

"If I might offer my observation, Ms. Cooper," Creed chimed in, "faced with this dilemma I would certainly claim the mouth, and make sure that my seed coated her lips and tongue, and slid down her throat. In many ways, it's the most intimate pleasure a woman can provide to her mate."

"That may be true, Mr. Creed, but an inexperienced woman, as the female subject most certainly is, can be a real disappointment in that regard. While most intimate it is also the sex act most demanding of skill on the woman's part."

"Very true, Ms. Cooper. Better for the male subject to wait, and perhaps he can take advantage of his mate's upcoming training in that skill. In light of that fact, I would instead choose the ass. I would want to take at least one of my wife's virginities for myself, before they are taken by other subjects and experimenters."

"A good point also, Mr. Creed. In this case, however, I think that the male subject may be torn between the intimacy and fulfillment that vaginal intercourse provides, and the novelty and conquest of taking his mates anal virginity. I think that I shall expose the female subject's orifices, so that he can make a better informed decision."

Brenda was still standing topless and shivering, her feet shoulder width apart, arms at her side as Sharon approached, again wielding the shiny metal blades and considering an angle of attack. She knelt down in front of my wife and found a place where the nylon was stretched taut between her legs, not touching the skin. She reached up carefully and pinched the fabric between her long manicured nails and pulled it away from Brenda's crotch. Carefully she raised the scissors and cut horizontally across the tent she had made. The effect was to open a small jagged circle of torn nylon between Brenda's legs, exposing her full, thick labia to view.

"Oh, my, Mr. Creed. The aroma of the female subject is wonderfully overwhelming. Her labia are so heavy and damp. I've never seem such beautiful pendant lips in person." Sharon raised her empty hand to my wife's pussy, and gently stroked her labia with the backs of two fingers. Then she reached up and stroked one side, and then the other, between her thumb and forefinger. Brenda shivered harder.

"You should see the elasticity, it's marvelous!" Ms. Cooper grasped the left side of my wife's pussy lips and pulled down, slowly at first, then more insistently. 

"Ahh...ahh" a slight gasp of pain escaped my wife's throat, though she tried to suppress it.

"Let's try the other one, and check the sensitivity." She grabbed the right pussy lip, and more abruptly this time, almost yanked down on it until my wife gasped and recoiled in pain. Ms. Cooper lost her grasp. "Equal, and responsive, I would say, Mr. Creed. I'll just snip the opening farther to the rear and present our male subject with his choices." She brought the scissors up and carefully opened the hole in the stockings toward my wife's virgin anus.

"Turn around, female subject." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Ms. Cooper stepped around my wife and guided her closer to the chair, bending her over at the waist so that she could support herself on the arm of the heavy furnishing. In this position, I had a perfect view of my wife's puckered pink back door, and her wet, open pussy. Ms. Cooper put her hands on my wife's ass and spread her cheeks, spreading both of the potential openings for me to consider.

I chose. "I would like to make love to my wife, please ma'am. But not from the back, I would like to face her."

Ms. Cooper looked around for a good location in the office. "A good choice, subject. I would suggest that she sit on the edge of the desk, with her knees drawn upward. At your height this would give an excellent position for the deepest thrusting."

She led my wife over the desk. "I'm going to ask you to keep the blindfold on, my dear. While your husband is inside of you I am going to monitor your responses." Sharon positioned Brenda on the edge of the desk, clearing space behind her so that my wife could support herself with her arms or lay back fully. Then Ms. Cooper bid me to step forward, and guided me by the shoulders so that the tip of my cock rested nearly touching my wife's open pussy lips. "Wait a moment. I will control the positioning and the speed of entry," she said. "It's important that I be able to observe and control all the details of the experiment." 

Sharon reached down with her right hand and guided the tip of my cock against Brenda's slit, rubbing it slowly up and down her lips and mixing my wetness with my wife's. Brenda had been propping herself up with her arms, but at this moment she chose to lay all the way back, and bring her knees up high to allow for the deepest penetration I would be able to manage. Sharon pressed at the small of my back with her left hand, guiding my cock into my wife at the slowest possible pace. Ms. Cooper was right, my wife was incredibly tight.

With her right hand Ms. Cooper steered first my right hand, then my left, up to my wife's nipples. Ms. Cooper pushed my fingers together hard, forcing me to pinch Brenda's delicate buds sharply. Brenda gasped, partly in pain, but more in pleasure. As I reached the maximum depth of my stroke, I pulled down hard and pinched even harder, pulling my wife down onto my cock as far as she could go. 

Sharon trailed her right hand down my wife's stomach toward her pussy. She toyed with the wispy red pubes that were protruding from the opening in the nylons. With her left hand she reached under between my legs and grasped by balls, pulling me backward for an outstroke, and then gradually guiding me back in for another thrust. I pulled down hard on my wife's nipples again at the deepest part of the thrust, and this time she hissed, "yesssss, yesssssss." Brenda bent her legs higher and placed the soles of her shoes on my shoulders.

Again, Sharon pulled back on my balls for a very gradual outstroke. As she pushed me back in for an agonizingly slow thrust, she searched out my wife's swollen clitoris and gently kneaded it between the thumb and finger of her right hand. At the deepest part of the thrust I again pulled down hard on my wife's nipples and pinched. Sharon simultaneously grasped my balls and squeezed, and pinched Brenda's clit forcefully. Brenda let out a piercing, quaking scream of pleasure mixed with pain, and passed out from the tremendous force of her orgasm. I stayed pressed deeply into her tight hot pussy, squirting what seemed an impossible amount of cum into her limp form, with Ms. Cooper milking the last drops out of my balls and holding the tip of my cock to apply the milky quim over my wife's trembling labia and pubic hair.

While Brenda lay unconscious, Sharon instructed me to take off my wife's shoes and pantyhose, and then put her shoes back on. I managed all of this before my wife regained her senses. Ms. Cooper in the meantime removed Brenda's blindfold.

"Get down on your knees, subject, between your wife's legs," Ms. Cooper instructed sternly.