Sanneke DeJaegher knew the office building like the back of her hand; she’d worked there, once upon a time. She’d helped run it, as the Director of Human Resources, before retiring to a more consultation-based role. That experience as an executive director served her well now, two years later, as she strode through the line of glass doors and into the lobby, briefcase in hand and her pale cream suit tailored to razor-sharp perfection. She walked in like she owned the place, with confidence enough to take the receptionist by surprise.
“Hello.” Sanneke greeted the woman behind the desk with a friendly, smirkish smile before giving her an utterly false name. “Melissa Fries; I have an appointment with Ms. Vanderbilt.”
“Ah, welcome, Miss Fries. If you could sign in, please, while I look up your appointment…?”
“Of course.” The packet of papers — disclaimers, confidentiality agreements, terms and waivers — were attached to a clipboard, and ‘Melissa’ spent the next several minutes filling them all in with blatantly made-up information.
“How do you spell your last name, Miss Fries?”
“F-R-I-E-S. Sounds likes freeze, spelled likes fries.”
“I don’t see that you have an appointment. Are you sure it was today?”
“Positive, sweetheart.” She glanced up at the woman, still smiling genteelly, before returning to the paperwork. “I’m from Whiteout Intelligence. She’s expecting me.”
The receptionist pursed her lips and double-checked the digital agenda. Sanneke continued merrily jotting down a myriad of fake facts about Melissa Fries.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I don’t see–”
“Call her,” ‘Melissa’ repeated, without looking up from the paper, her tone calm and matter-of-fact. “I’m not going to miss an appointment I flew here from London for, because of a clerical or system error. I have an appointment. So: call her, and verify it.”
A long hesitation, doubtlessly as the woman debated whether Ms. Fries was worth the possible problem of interrupting the company CEO’s afternoon routine. After a moment, though, she picked up the handset of her phone and made the call.
“Ms. Vanderbilt? There’s a Melissa Fries from Whiteout Intelligence here to see you.” A pause. “F-R-I-E-S. I don’t see anything on your sch–” Another pause, this one longer. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do that. Thank you.”
Melissa was still smiling oh-so-sweetly at the woman as she hung up the phone.
“We’ll need to make a visitor badge for you. If you could stand right there against the wall…”
Said visitor already knew where it was, and wasted no time smoothing down the lines of her blazer and putting on her best femme fatale smirk. She knew that digital photograph would be sent directly to Jessica’s cell phone, before it graced the plastic of a badge. Light, sharp makeup done in hues of fresh peach and summer kiss; blonde hair — a wig over her natural brunette — pulled back in a sleek and professional bun. Blue eyes and pale pink lips. Her outfit was a soft, off-white, designer business suit that matched the imaginary company she’d created. When the badge finally popped out of the printer, the twinkle in her eyes already hinted at mischief.
“Here you go, Miss Fries. The elevators are right around–”
Melissa cut her off with a wink and a dismissive wave of her hand. “I know my way. Thanks, love. Have a great day.”
Jessica Vanderbilt’s office in Alton befitted both her name and her position. It was modern to the core, with large picture windows that allowed early afternoon sunlight in through navy-tinted vertical blinds. A large, sleek hardwood desk was the centerpoint of the room, impossible to miss; behind it, a designer black leather chair. A laptop hooked up to a docking station and dual monitors adorned one arm of the L-shape, while a coffee mug, cell phone, and assorted papers lay scattered haphazardly over the other.
Jessica herself was not whom most would expect to find sitting in the office of the CEO. She was only twenty-six, thin to the point of boyish, with few ‘womanly charms’ to speak of. Her breasts were small, even when squeezed and bolstered by corsets, and to call her hips ‘modest’ would be an overstatement. It wasn’t helped by her height; her wiry physique was stretched over a 5’10” frame, often made all the taller by the addition of heeled boots. What most noticed first about her was her face: pale skin and equally pale blue eyes that were so much colder that they ought to be at her age. They were contrasted with naturally black hair that fell in loose waves around her face and shoulders. Her features were sharp and more ‘striking’ than classically beautiful.
The digital photograph of Miss Fries lit up Jessica’s phone before the woman set foot inside the elevator. It was a face she recognized. A different name, of course, and the blonde hair was usually a rich, dark brown: either bleached or artificial. But she’d know her wife’s face anywhere, and especially that smirk. So, so many memories — so many questionable decisions and wild nights — had started with that smirk. She smiled crookedly to herself and tapped the alert to validate the ID. Whatever Sanneke was up to, Jessica was willing to play along.
She got a thirty second warning when her desk phone LED blinked red.
“Ms. Vanderbilt,” her private secretary’s voice announced, “Miss Fries is here.”
“Send her i–” was all she managed, before the office door swung open, sans knock.
‘Melissa’ breezed in with the confidence of an empress. She was dressed in sheer white: white slacks, a white blazer with a single gold-and-black button, white heels. Her jewelry was delicate gold that encircled her neck and her wrist, paired with earrings that each bore a single shimmering pearl. She carried a briefcase, held not by the handle but by a hand curled around the bottom and the leather resting against her hip. A light blue folder of some sort and a page of laminated paper lay on the outside, secured by her grasp.
Despite the change in outfit and hair color, it was immediately clear that it was, indeed, Sanneke… and that for all the finery of her outfit, there was precious little underneath the plunging neckline of the blazer.
The woman fastened Jessica with a sharp smile and a boardroom-warfare gaze. “Miss Vanderbilt. So glad you could see me on such short notice.”
It was almost ruined by the fact that Jessica, herself, had put on a small wardrobe change in the minutes before. Halloween was only a week away, and Jessica had a small selection of novelties in her office from her continual debate of how much of a corporate she-devil to dress up as. There was no time for a full-on face-paint and outfit, but now she sported a set of four-inch black, ridged horns, curved like an ibex. The headband they were attached to blended perfectly in the onyx waves of her hair. It was quite the contrast to the crisp, modern lines of her black Armani suit.
Jessica nodded politely as the blonde entered. The long fingers of one pale hand drifted along the bottom lip of her desk and pressed one of the three hidden buttons. The door locked itself shut with a barely audible click.
“Miss Fries,” she purred. When she spoke, the pointed tips of artificial fangs — another Halloween prop — flashed behind her lips. “I wasn’t expecting you. Do come in.”
Barely audible, but audible nonetheless. Sanneke’s — Melissa’s — face flickered with the barest hint of amusement and a centimeter lift of both sculpted eyebrows. Her eyes shifted sidelong, back to the door as much as possible without turning her head. But she ran with the improvisation and strode up to the immense executive desk. She sat the briefcase down atop it.
“No? And here I came prepared to discuss the takeover. I trust that’s still on the table?”
“On the table? Something certainly is,” Jessica replied, crisp and cool, lacking any hint of inappropriate innuendo. She nodded and made a languid motion towards the chairs in front of her desk. “The papers, if you please?”
Melissa laid the briefcase on its side. Now that it was flat, it served as the perfect platform to flip open the pastel blue folder. Only one of the papers was laminated. Jessica caught a glimpse of partial letters, far too large to be normal typeface and with too much white around the margins. Whatever it was, Melissa took care to keep it out of view. Jessica’s pale eyes glanced up in momentary curiosity before returning to the shuffle of pages. Fries surrendered four other sheets instead, these all containing quite normal text.
“I think our terms on this have been more than generous, Ms. Vanderbilt. You know as well as I that this deal would be mutually beneficial.” She placed both palms atop the brown leather and leaned forward. Her voice dipped into low earnestness. “I want to get this signed and sealed.”
Jessica examined the presented documents. They were nothing corporate; no letterhead, no embossed seals. A quick scan of the text revealed that her wife hadn’t gone into that much detail in this roleplay. The pages were a printed email to a friend, a book review, and a copy of an Amazon order. She lifted a theatrical frown up to ‘Miss Fries’ and furrowed her brow.
“I’m sorry, Miss Fries. This–” She flicked a finger against the corner of the book review, “–doesn’t correspond to any agreement that I recall. In fact, I don’t recall any details, or any authorization, of this ‘takeover’. As you know, we’re a private company, and you don’t have the leverage–” She tapped a nail on the desk. “–for a hostile takeover. So remind me why I’m interested in this?”
Melissa’s eyes dropped down to the manicured, if unpainted, nail, and then trailed back up over the sharp lines of Jessica’s suit. Jess might lack traditional feminine charms, but she made up for it with pure, powerful presence, and that aggressive I’ll-take-what-I-want attitude was its own brand of aphrodisiac.
“Because,” Melissa murmured, the tips of her fingers curling around the edge of the case as she leaned forward. A deep breath accentuated how the cut of the blazer barely hid what wasn’t underneath. “We get the company; you get the personnel. Anyone we have. Anyone you want. Your personal… benefits package.”
“Aaah. You’re the sweetener. I get it. Nice. And yet… and yet….” She nodded, horns and all, and tapped a finger on her chin — and then abruptly rose to her feet. “I’m not convinced. This–” She wafted a hand towards the paper once more. “–isn’t enough.”
The woman in white pulled back as well, standing upright in response to Jessica’s shift. Her attention on her ‘demonic’ counterpart was fixed and bright. “We have been more than generous,” she protested. “The price is above market value. You’d retain forty-three percent control of the board. A golden parachute. What more could you possibly want?”
Vanderbilt huffed in pantomime amusement. She prowled closer, around the corner of the desk, licking the tips of her costume fangs. “You can’t wander in here, Miss Fries, and offer some ‘extra benefits package’ without expecting me to need some… specifics.” A half-score of steps brought her to the blonde’s side. She lifted a hand, drawing a curled finger over the glimmer of the woman’s necklace. “…this is nice.”
Melissa’s nostrils flared as Jessica slid up next to her; even in roleplay she found herself tensing like a mouse that had spotted a snake. She kept herself still and tracked the she-demon’s movements with a subtle turn of her head. “… eighteen carat. Italian.” A pause; her tongue moistened her light pink lips. “Do you want it?”
“I want something,” she murmured. More fingers slipped under the filigree chain. They held it in a delicate grasp, then abruptly ripped it from the woman and flung it away. The chain snapped like the stem of a flower, and the glitter of expensive gold met a quiet death on the office carpet. “You think you can buy me with trinkets?” she hissed.
Melissa’s breath caught and her head snapped around to try to see where it landed. Almost immediately she realized that it wasn’t the jewelry she needed to keep an eye on. She could retrieve it later, or buy another, once she’d closed the deal.
“…I– No, of course not, Ms. Vanderbilt–” She licked her lips again and tried to step away and gain enough space to turn and face the Alton CEO. “But you must realize how– how important– how vital it is that you sign these papers. We have done everything you’ve asked! Whiteout has granted me considerable leeway, but there are limits to what I can offer without something in return.”
Jessica laughed, low and quiet. “And what did your superiors tell you about me?” she asked, sliding behind the white-clad woman and gracing the back of her shoulders with the feather-light touch of fingers. “Don’t you know who I am?” She leaned in, taking in the scent of expensive perfume and soft shampoo. “I’m the devil,” she whispered into Ms. Fries’ ear. “So let’s make a deal…”
The blonde drew in a slow, deep breath to try to compose herself. At first she tried to follow the movement as Jessica continued to circle her, but soon enough she gave up. Fine. Let the woman stalk. “Just tell me what you want. I’ll even sign in blood.”
Pale hands went to Ms. Fries’ back, then slid like snakes down over her hips. They cupped her rump with unapologetic confidence. The ‘demoness’ exhaled a warm breath against Melissa’s ear.
“I think I’ll have you,” she murmured, before pressing her fangs against the woman’s neck.
The ‘bite’ was ineffectual: a sharp nip, but these were clearly not theatrical-grade prosthetics. The intention was clear enough. ‘Melissa’ played along with it, letting the roleplay twist how it would. She sucked in a hiss of surprise and instinctively tried to pull away from the pain of pointed teeth. The motion bared even more of her slim neck for the taking. One French-tipped hand lifted to try to ward the ‘creature’ away.
“Ms. Van– What are you…?”
This close Jessica could so easily take in the scent of fresh powder and feminine flesh. She licked up the side of the blonde’s neck and then went to yank her jacket down and off. “Whatever I want.”
The blazer’s single button held against the first tug, but a second ripped it free of its securing thread. Underneath was nothing but beautiful, smooth skin, unmarred by tan lines or bra straps. Translucent strips of adhesive fashion tape served as invisible support beneath her breasts and gave a touch of extra lift to her charms.
Melissa’s eyes fluttered; she whimpered as her clothing was stripped away. Her breath quickened in fight-or-flight, but the ‘bite’ robbed her of the ability to do either. Her fingers rose and curled into black hair. Her grip was firm at first, but any strength quickly ebbed away. “Y-you– you can’t!”
“I can,” Vanderbilt hiss-snarled, playing up the part of the corporate fiend. She nipped again at Melissa’s neck and reached a hand around to toy with an exposed breast. She lifted, teased, and pinched. The gasp it evoked made her laugh once more. “Yes, yes. I see. I see why they sent you…”
A second hand joined the first as she cupped the blonde’s chest from behind, and Jessica moaned low, almost to herself. Melissa’s skin was hot with life and promise, and her nipples were already drawing taut in response to the cool office air and manhandling from foreign fingers. Her head stayed almost lolled to one side, the ‘bite’ open and exposed for further abuse. She started to sag against Jessica’s taller form as her knees weakened.
It took the half-nude blonde several deep breaths to find her voice. “…just… this once,” she managed to whisper, “If you promise you’ll… sign.”
Jessica chuckled, her ‘seductive bite’ having the desired effect. “Oh no, no, no. You’re part of the deal now, darling.” she murmured. “What was it you said? Any personnel I wanted?” She pressed Melissa forward, towards the desk, and wormed long fingers into the waistband of her slacks.
Melissa took a half-step as she was pushed; both hands landed on the briefcase as she tried to support herself against the narcotic effect of the bite. Even though it was make-believe, the sensation was almost real. She and Jessica were no strangers to these roleplay sessions, and both of them were prone to submerging so deep into the fantasy that they forgot they were only playing.
The white slacks started to slip down as Jessica tugged at them. Melissa gave only token resistance: her hips pressing back and squirming as she felt herself disrobed. She whimpered in faint protest. “I… no, no. Anyone else. I’m– I’m the Vice Director…”
“Yessss,” the horned woman agreed, “let me show you exactly how many vices.”
Her hands ran over lovely skin, pulling and tugging at the garments to better undress the ‘protesting executive’. Lips and fangs and smoldering breath assaulted Melissa’s neck, and the cool press of Jessica’s expensive suit slid against her back. It was easy to fake quickened breath and faux-resistance, but the blush that highlighted Melissa’s cheeks and the rapid staccato pulse of fear-laced lust was very real. The soft mewls of no…no…please caressed Jessica’s ears, but the power of her fiendish poison meant that her once-confident rival was now a malleable — almost mindless — toy.
She clasped a hand around the back of Miss Fries’ neck and bent her over the desk with a firm, straight-armed shove. The fingers of her other hand swiped between the woman’s thighs. “Did you really think you would waltz in here and take what’s mine, you naive bitch? They sacrificed you,” she breathed, pressing her down against the old wood. “A morsel offered up to Hell and high water.”
Her finger came back slick with hot, slippery arousal. Melissa’s breath hitched. The briefcase was shoved along with her as she was pushed prone, and a small shower of loose-leaf paper fluttered to the floor.
“I’ll walk out,” Melissa promised in a breathless, timid voice. “You– you can’t keep me.”
Jessica sneered and pushed harder, grinding the woman’s cheek against the desk. Point made, she bent to scoop up the fallen paperwork, and finally get a good look at the mysterious laminated page. It was a sign, and announced ‘Closed for Maintenance’ in thick red letters and 72-point font.
“Then you fail twice,” she informed Miss Fries. “I imagine your controllers won’t be pleased. If you can’t close the a deal this big, maybe they’ll just hang you out to dry.”
Melissa tried to find purchase with one hand and push herself back up; the other raked back the fall of honey-blonde hair that had escaped its careful coif. It fell back again. She cast the horned she-devil a dark, lustful, half-lidded look over a bare shoulder. “They’d never. I’m too important.”
Jessica brandished the sign with a vicious, fanged grin and slapped it down on the table next to her victim, well within her line of sight. “Clearly. Which is why they sent you with this.”
She thrust her knee between Melissa’s legs, prodding them apart as far as the constraints of her slacks would allow. Pale lavender panties hid the woman’s sex from view; their center was darkened with a violet patch of moist arousal. Jessica stretched forward to snatch her phone from the desk. Now armed, she flipped open the camera, took a half-step back, and lifted the device. A series of snaps captured the disheveled woman bent lewdly over the executive’s desk; then turning her head to try to follow the movement; then lips parted and blue eyes wide when Melissa realized she was on ‘film’. Next to her: Closed for Maintenance, the red block letters standing in stark contrast.
Jessica grinned impishly. “I’m torn. On the one hand, there’s a joke there about ‘maintenance’: checking pipes, cleaning tubes, and so on. On the other hand… there’s a lot to go on with ‘not closed’ when your legs are wide open.” She tapped her finger on her chin in mock consideration of the options… and then shrugged. She planted a hand in the middle of Melissa’s shoulder blades and slammed her down.
Melissa’s breathy laugh was cut short. She was mostly upright, until suddenly she wasn’t, and with a heavy thud and an oof of breath, she was re-introduced to the top of Jessica’s desk. Another trio of items tumbled to the floor. She struggled to right herself again, more sincerely this time. Jessica’s other hand shoved its way between her thighs, and Melissa gasped in a mix of surprise and satisfaction.
“Is this… how you handle… all your contracts?” she managed, licking her lips as the CEO tugged and wrestled with her quickly dampening panties.
“Only the ones I like,” Jessica retorted.
Shoved down and out of the way, the slip of cotton was quickly forgotten. Long, expert fingers played over the blonde’s sex, parting and exploring the velvet-soft folds. The honeyed heat smeared with every touch.
Melissa had stopped fighting. Perhaps she’d realized the inevitable. Perhaps she was willing to do whatever it took to close the deal. She watched the woman behind her and breathed through lush, parted lips. A slow backwards press of her hips invited more.
All the while in the background, the staccato snap of the camera continued.
“Maybe I’ll have you as a pet,” Jessica hissed as she started to toy with the woman, slowly fingering her. “Maybe I’ll dress you up as my slutty secretary.”
Pet. Once upon a time that word would have ended the play and brought Sanneke — the real Sanneke — out in a fury. Their years together, first with collars and then with wedding rings, had tempered her reactions. She would never be a pet… but being Jessica’s pet was something different.
She licked her lips, letting her eyes close. She rolled her rumped back against the devil’s touch; fingers slid into her hot depths with no resistance. “You’d bend me over three times a day,” she whispered, heavy with heat. “Make me earn every pen, every pencil.”
“Oh yeessss… You’d be my personal fuck-pet,” Jessica growled. “… the company cumdump. Sent in to improve morale.”
Sanneke’s sex clenched tight around Jessica’s fingers at the threat, and fresh nectar slicked her fingers up to her knuckles. The shiver of unexpected lust prickled tiny bumps to life across her spine. She dragged in a deep breath that barely stopped short of a moan.
“You’d…”. Melissa swallowed. Tried to find air. “… watch. You… take bets… how many I’d take…” Her cheeks glowed with a heavy blush of shame and need.
Jessica twitched as she felt the carnal response. The click of the camera shutter fell silent; in its place, a low, thrumming hum of vibration. She pressed the smartphone between her own legs; her fingers and wrist jerked in wild response as the buzzing found its mark. She pressed in harder against Melissa, giving a lust-addled moan of her own.
“Over and over… I’d waaatch. You’d– you’d be fucked every day. Every day. Another… company ass-et.”
Melissa rocked herself back against Vanderbilt’s fingers, the once-gentle motion now a desperate grind. The pink blush of her cheeks spread over her chest, and the heat of it made her skin glow. She was dripping — literally dripping, tiny pearls of debauched lust falling and soaking into the carpet as Jessica fucked her from behind.
“Every day,” she echoed, eyes closed, voice threading into a whimper. “Over and over, everyone. I’d swallow. I’d swallow, choke, down my throat—”
Wet noises filtered into Melissa’s lust-drunk perceptions as Jessica pleasured herself with the thrum of the trilling phone, her attention desperately split between the woman underneath her and her own spiraling want. A second finger speared into the blonde’s sex, frantic and jittery. Melissa moaned as she was filled, and her fingers curled and nails scraped against polished wood.
Suddenly Jessica tensed, breath frozen in her chest. She teetered on the edge, teeth clenched and body so very, very close.
The slap of Melissa’s ass against her fingers never stopped. She kept grinding herself back against her ‘assailant’, and Jessica’s sudden stillness met with open and vocal protest. “Fuck me! Fuck me, whore me, anyone, please!”
Full volume, echoing through the office, as the demoness’ visitor begged for more.
It shoved Jessica over the edge. Her orgasm tore through her and she sobbed and shuddered with fevered joy. Sticky-slick warmth drenched her panties; her clenched thighs stifled the buzz of her phone down to nothing. “Yes yes yes, mine mine mine!” The ragged peaks of power and lust spiked with each brutal thrust of her fingers, and in the delirium of climax she plunged as many as she could, as deep as she could, into her wailing lover.
Melissa screamed with pain and need as her sex was forced wide. The scattered papers crumpled under her spasming hands. Soon she, too, shivered and sobbed, completely slack over the desk, her pants and underwear ruined and blood tingeing the CEO’s long fingers. She pleaded with mewls of incoherent sound between hiccups of breath, and reached blindly towards her wife to find an anchor in the storm.
Jessica wavered on her feet. Numb from sensation overload, she thunked the phone down onto the desk and extended an arm for ‘Melissa’ to grasp. With her spare hand she snatched up one of the contract papers and smeared between the blonde’s trembling thighs. “You…can…take that…to your bosses.” she managed to pant.
She shuddered and nodded in mindless agreement. The crumpled sheets came back glistening. Her chest heaved with heavy breath. “…yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am. I’ll… I’ll… tell them.”
With an obvious effort, Jessica straightened herself and prowled back around her desk to resume her seat. She shivered in dying sensation as she sat. A one-two combination on her keyboard unlocked her computer, and she pointedly turned her attention to the screen.
“You can get dressed and s…and see yourself out.”
Writing is a passion, and the support and appreciation of my fans are what help keep that flame burning bright. Each small comment, email, or Twitter compliment received lets me know that you enjoy my work as much as I like making it.I’d like to especially thank my Patreon Patrons and Ko-Fi supporters who help offset the costs of the many cups of coffee sometimes necessary to wash away writer’s block.
Last, but certainly not least: a very HUGE thank you my Muses, JV and Helen. May I inspire you like you inspire me <3