Blackmailed at Work

by Mel

Part One

“You wanted to see me, Mr Stern?” Vanessa nervously entered Mr Stern’s office. She would never have dared to use her manager’s first name. He was Stern by name and stern by nature. He was quite attractive, with a trim figure topped with rugged good looks, but Vanessa would not have envied anyone who tried to be his girlfriend.

“Please, Vanessa, close the door and sit down,” said Mr Stern. Vanessa hastened to comply. Mr Stern in such an unaccustomed good mood somehow made her even more nervous than the usual grumpiness.

“Now, Vanessa, I’ve been examining a few things,” he continued, still smiling, and pulling some computer printouts from a drawer. Vanessa began to get a creepy feeling. This was the grin of a cat about to pounce. “I’ve noticed some odd movements on an account you’re responsible for. Quite often, hundreds of pounds disappear around the twentieth of a month, and then re-appear at the end of the month.”

Vanessa was shocked. She had been sure that the systems she had constructed would make her loans to herself undetectable. “But … but …” she stuttered. “I mean, nothing’s gone permanently missing, not a penny …”

“It’s still fraud.” Mr Stern’s creepy smile now stretched from ear to ear. “And it wouldn’t be a first offence, now would it?”

Vanessa was really getting worried now. How did Mr Stern know? Yes, she had an offence for shoplifting.

“I reckon you’d go to prison,” he continued in the same pleasant tone. “That wouldn’t reflect well on your oh so respectable family, would it? And a pretty young blonde girl like you wouldn’t enjoy prison at all. You’d constantly get picked on and indecently assaulted, and that’s just by the warders.”

Vanessa was really in a state now. “Wha … what will you do, Mr Stern?”

“Dear me, girl, you’re obviously not feeling well. Take the rest of the day off. And tomorrow’s Saturday; come and see me at home at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.” He handed her a card with his address on. Vanessa, still shaking, rose to go.

“And don’t you dare be late,” snapped Mr Stern, reverting to his normal irritability. Vanessa fled from the room.

She timed her arrival perfectly, ringing the doorbell of Mr Stern’s detached bungalow at precisely ten o’clock. She waited, trembling, as the echoes of the ring reverberated through her head. What was he going to do to her? Why did she need to come to his house? It seemed an hour before the door swung open.

“Ah, Vanessa, how nice it is to see you. Do come in.” Mr Stern was back in creepy mode. He led Vanessa into the rear reception room. “Now, you see that bag on the table? It has some clothes in. I want you to take all of your clothes off, every stitch including your underwear, and put those on instead.”

“What?” shouted Vanessa. “What are you doing?”

“It’s OK; I won’t stay in the room. Your modesty will be totally preserved.” Seeing that Vanessa was about to say something else, he added “It’s that or prison. I’ll give you fifteen minutes.” He walked out, closing the door behind him.

Vanessa’s mind was in a turmoil, but she managed to calm herself down. He wasn’t going to rape her or anything, was he? She looked at the clothes in the bag. There were a matching bra, thong and suspenders, and a pair of stockings. She had never worn stockings before in her life. There was what was presumably a skirt, but it was very short, a top, and a pair of shoes with very thick soles and ridiculously high stiletto heels. How could anyone possibly walk in those?

Slowly, she took off her jacket, shoes, socks and trousers. Her big white cotton panties made quite a contrast to the little black thong. She swapped one for the other and realised why she never wore thongs, as the rear string worked its way uncomfortably into her rear crack. It did not take too long to work out how to put on the suspender belt, but the stockings proved a little trickier. She was well aware of the time limit, and was frightened to take too long.

The bra was padded and gave her a great deal of uplift. Her breasts were not exactly small, but with the bra on they seemed quite a bit larger and stuck out proudly. Pulling on the top, she found that it was very tight, and cut low at the front. Together with the bra, the effect was that she had a spectacular cleavage.

She pulled on the skirt. It was tight and clingy, emphasising her excellent hips and pert bottom. It was, as she feared, very short, and she struggled to get it to cover her stocking tops. Finally, she forced her feet into the shoes. They were considerably too small and, due to that and the high heels, they were hard to stand in, let alone walk. She noticed that there were straps and buckles, so she did them up. Bending down to do this made her skirt ride up, so she had the job of pulling it down again.

As soon as she had finished doing this, Mr Stern walked in. Had he been secretly watching her? “You look fabulous,” he said approvingly. “Just one more thing.” He bent down and snapped tiny padlocks onto her show buckles. “Now you can go home.”

Vanessa was getting more and more bewildered. “OK, I’ll just change back …”

He cut her off. “No, go home like that,” he said. He gave her some coins. “That’s your bus fare home. Now go at once.”

Vanessa stepped towards her clothes.

“I said at once.”

“But I need to take my clothes, I need my door key …”

“I’ll take your clothes and I’ll be there to let you in.”

This was getting more and more bewildering, but Vanessa was too frightened not to do as she was told. Slowly and painfully in those awful shoes, she hobbled out of the bungalow and back to the main road to find the bus stop. She realised that she could not take the shoes off and go in her bare feet, because of the padlocks. On more than one occasion, she had to fiddle with the skirt to hide the stocking tops. Quite a few people were about in the busy shopping area, and she felt sure that all of the men were ogling her cleavage and her bottom.

Before she reached the stop, Mr Stern passed her in his car. He would no doubt be at her place well before she was, as the buses were infrequent. Wearing only the thin top, she shivered in the cool morning air and her dread made her shiver all the more.

Finally, the bus came. It was not easy for her to climb aboard, and the effort lifted her skirt, exposing her stockings and suspenders. The driver leered at her, as did more than one of the passengers. She sat nervously as the bus took her home.

Alighting from the bus gave her the same problems as boarding. She again pulled down her skirt and slowly limped home. As she neared her house, she saw that Mr Stern’s car was parked outside. He was standing in the front garden next to a ladder, and a small top window was wide open.

“What you have to do, Vanessa, is climb up the ladder and crawl in through the window,” he said cheerfully.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said angrily. “Give me my key and let me go in, or I’ll call the police.”

“Yes, do call the police,” he purred. “That will save me the trouble. I’ll have you arrested for fraud.”

Vanessa had no choice. She climbed the ladder, hampered by her painful shoes. Her skirt rode up, but she was clinging tightly to the ladder with both hands so she could not pull it down. From below, Mr Stern had a wonderful up-skirt view of her bottom in its thong.

It was quite a struggle to squeeze through the window, and she must have looked a sight to any passers-by, with her bottom on display and no way that she could free a hand to pull down her skirt.

As soon as she was half way through the window, Mr Stern took away the ladder and rushed into the house. There was no way back so she struggled on, frightened that she would fall out onto the hard ground. Finally, she was in and fell head first into an armchair. Her skirt had ridden up to her waist, and Mr Stern had a spectacular view of her upside down bottom as she landed.

“Well done, Vanessa,” he said, helping her to her feet. “That looked great. Next time, we’ll try it without a thong on.”

It took a few seconds for the meaning of his remark to penetrate the haze of Vanessa’s mind. Do that again? Wearing no underwear? This was getting worse and worse. She just about had the presence of mind to straighten her dishevelled clothing.

“You know something, Vanessa? These clothes really suit you. In future, that’s how you’ll always dress for work. Hold on.”

He went out of the house and returned with a suitcase. “That’s a week’s supply of clothes for you, and a spare pair of shoes. Don’t forget that the shoes must be locked on. I’ll see you on Monday. So long.”

To be continued

Blackmailed at Work, part 2

by Mel

Vanessa stood in stunned silence for several minutes after her boss had left. How could she turn up to work day after day in this ridiculous outfit? As it was, there were enough men in the office who leered at her and made suggestive remarks when she dressed with reasonable modesty. Surely things would get a hundred times worse. What were Mr Stern’s intentions towards her?

Finally, the pain in her feet from the awful shoes brought her back to reality. She had to change back, and start by removing those shoes. Opening the suitcase, she soon found the other pair of shoes, and was relieved to find two keys with them. One key fitted the padlocks on the pair she was wearing, and no doubt the other key fitted the other pair. The suitcase also had an assortment of clothing much like what she was wearing and also her own clothes, which she speedily changed back to.

For the rest of the weekend, she fretted and worried. The journey to and from work shouldn’t be too bad. She could wear her long overcoat to hide her cleavage and short skirt; it was a bit warm for this weather, but she could stand that. There was no need to put on the awful shoes until just before she reached the office, and then she could take them off as soon as she left. There would still be the problem in the office.

Thus, after a sleepless Sunday night, Vanessa left for work in the morning wearing her long coat over an outfit consisting of a miniskirt, stockings and suspenders and a tight, low-cut top. Again the thong dug into her and the bra gave her a spectacular cleavage. She looked nervously at people she passed in the street and her fellow passengers on the bus, but while they might have noticed a pretty young lady they could have no clue about how she was dressed under her coat. She paused at the bus stop near her office to change shoes, and nervously entered the building.

Every time she passed a man, she was frightened that somehow he would know how she was dressed under her coat. It was almost a relief to see Mr Stern and have him invite her into his office, even though he was in creepy smiling mode. “Come in, Vanessa, take off your coat and hang it up,” he said. “Sit down.” It was a relief to sit down; even a short walk in those shoes was an ordeal.

“Guess what,” he continued. “You are going to get your own office. That room next to mine,” he waved at the connecting door, “that’s been used as a store room. I had it cleared out yesterday. Let’s go in.”

Nervously, Vanessa followed her manager into the adjoining room. There was nothing in it but a large box, and there was no carpet on the floor. The windows had been covered with brown paper. “But … but Mr Stern, there’s no desk, no computer. How do I work in here?”

“You’ll see. I have an unusual job for you. Now, put your arms behind your back and fold them so your left wrist is next to your right elbow, and vice versa.”

Vanessa obeyed, but she had a premonition that she would not like what would happen next. Indeed, she let out a startled cry as Mr Stern put on a pair of handcuffs, securing her left wrist to her right elbow.

“Keep your voice down, Vanessa; we don’t want people to hear,” snapped Mr Stern as he put handcuffs on the other wrist and elbow. “Now, open your mouth as wide as it will go.”

Again Vanessa obeyed. Into her mouth went a huge wad of cotton wool. Mr Stern pushed it in until it touched the back of her throat, threatening to choke her. It was followed by a large rubber ball; there were straps attached, and Mr Stern buckled them tightly behind her head, ensuring that the ball was lodged immovably. Next came a padded leather blindfold, again buckled tightly. Vanessa was now completely blind, and on the verge of panic. But Mr Stern was not finished. A hood was pulled over her head. It seemed to be too small, but it was quite stretchy and eventually Mr Stern got it on. It clung tightly to every part of her head.

“Now, Vanessa, this hood lets some air through. If you keep calm and breathe slowly, you will have no problems. But if you struggle and try to scream, you may start to suffocate.”

That did nothing to calm Vanessa down, but she did her best to breathe slowly and regularly. Next, she felt Mr Stern fasten a noose around her neck. He pulled it tighter than was comfortable, so that it pressed on her throat. He also buckled straps around her thighs, just above her knees.

“We’re all ready now, Vanessa. Turn round and we’ll get you into position.”

Completely blind, Vanessa just followed Mr Stern as he got her to put her chest across the top of the box. The box was hard and rough, and her breasts were squashed. He somehow secured the straps around her thighs to the box, forcing her to keep her legs spread well apart. Her knees were on the hard floor. He pulled on the free end of the noose and secured it, forcing her head and shoulders down. Her bottom stuck up into the air.

“Keep your head down or the noose will get tighter, Vanessa. There’s just one more thing …” Mr Stern pulled up her skirt to her waist, and he walked out, closing the door behind him, leaving her trapped in darkness.

Vanessa stayed there for she did not know how long. She was frightened to struggle because of the noose. Anyway, what good would it do if she could get free? There was no way to get the handcuffs off her arms, and she could scarcely get past Mr Stern with her arms trapped and wearing those shoes.

Eventually, she heard Mr Stern return. Suddenly, there was a swishing sound, and a line of agonising fire seared across her bottom. He had caned her! Instinctively, her head jerked up and she tried to scream. This made the noose tighten, and she started choking. Mr Stern forced her head down, and loosened the noose.

“That was very silly, Vanessa; you could have hurt yourself,” he chided her as if it were her fault that she was in this position.

Again there came the swish and the agony. Somehow, Vanessa kept her head down and did not try to scream.

“OK, that was just a practice so two will do for now. I’ll be back later.” Again he walked out, closing the door behind him, leaving her trapped in darkness.

Vanessa had no idea of the passing of time. All she knew was that she was caned again and again until she lost count. Her bottom was in agony, and her neck and shoulders had terrible cramps.

Finally, Mr Stern released her. As he did so, he pulled off her thong. She stood up, shaking, and pulled down her skirt. “OK, Vanessa, it’s time to go home. I’ll go ahead with your overcoat, door key and shoe key.”

Oh, no! Vanessa had to walk out of the office and go home wearing those shoes and with nothing to cover her clothes. It was even worse than before, because now she was wearing nothing under her skirt. To make matters worse, she was carrying her other shoes but could not change into them. She felt every male eye on her every step of the way.

Once again, Mr Stern was standing in the front garden next to a ladder, and a small top window was wide open. Again she had the ordeal of climbing the ladder and squeezing through the window. This time it felt even worse, as she knew that she was wearing no thong. Could passers-by see how red her bottom was from all that caning? Again, he pulled the ladder from under her as soon as she was half way through. Again, she fell into the room head first, and Mr Stern could see her upside down bottom, now completely naked, as she landed.

“Well, Vanessa, we’ll have to make a couple of improvements. The trouble with your outfit is that you can wear an overcoat over it, and you don’t need to put your shoes on until you get to the office. You’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve solved both of those problems.”

What? What further devilment would there be, Vanessa wondered nervously as she stood up and pulled down her skirt.

“Look at this,” he said proudly. He held a ballet tutu. “See, this tutu has supports like umbrella spokes. You couldn’t wear a long coat over it without bending the spokes, and I know that you have far too much sense to risk doing that. As for the keys, I’m going to chain them to your wall so that you can’t take them out of the house.” Sure enough, Vanessa saw him take out an electric drill and do just that.

“Right, Vanessa,” he said when he had finished. “I’ll take your miniskirts because you won’t need them again. I’ll see you tomorrow, wearing a tutu.”

To be continued...

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