Shona's Surprising Slave - Chapter 11
Femdom romance in the CARGO 'verse, where the NHS installs permanent chastity devices!
""Oh, Shona?" Victor perched his slick-suited backside on her desk next to her mouse hand. "We're still friends, aren't we?
Shona stared very hard at the figures scrolling up her screen. She wanted to smash Victor's chiselled face into the hipster reclaimed wooden desktop while explaining that none of her actual friends had called her a "castrating bitch".
Ever.
Her mother's voice came to her: Be nice, Shona. You're so big, nice is all you have.
She forced a smile and swivelled her chair to look at her ex. With him sitting on the edge of the desk, they were eye-to-eye. She caught herself hunching to conceal her height. She straightened her shoulders.
Around the open-plan office, her colleagues rummaged and rustled as they detached from their workstations and headed off for lunch.
Victor lowered his voice and ducked in confidentially. "I mean, cross words were said on both sides."
Her grip tightened on the mouse. If only it were his balls. "You..."
Told me I needed therapy to loosen up, you absolute bag of shit.
But maybe he did want to stay friends. And, she wasn't going to get far in this business by making enemies.
"...can call it water under the bridge," she completed.
"Oh good." Victor regaled her with his cheeky posh-boy smile. "Because I was looking forward to giving you feedback on your remaining thoughts on Project X."
"That's really sweet of you."
It was really sweet, especially after the angry break up. Victor had five years seniority on her. Nothing was forcing him to help her with her career.
He grinned. "I happen to have a window to read it after lunch."
Shona grinned at him. "I'll polish up my notes and send them over."
As the open plan office emptied, she cancelled her lunch date with the girls and --- munching an expired cereal bar --- opened up the document. She realised she hadn't had the heart to read his comments on her preliminary analysis---
Her her jaw set.
They were all --- ALL --- things like, "Jolly good... Good stuff. Much incite here...!"
Yes, he couldn't spell insight, or couldn't be bothered to check what he'd written.
Breathing hard now, Shona opened up some of the other documents.
Same crap, glib comments all the way back to... this time three years ago.
She flopped back in her chair and let out a muffled screech. Posh Victor wasn't helping her, he was helping himself to her expertise.
She had a vision of Victor tied up and at her mercy just like Whatshisname had been, and the whip tearing bloody strips out of his flesh.
"How could I be so fucking---"
Her phone rang.
It was an “Unknown Number”, but Shona was in the mood for yelling at a cold caller.
“Ms Armstrong?” An educated voice, not like the usual spam.
"Who's speaking?"
“It’s Hal... from Monday afternoon.”
Shona stared at her phone. She'd kind of pretended to herself that the whole encounter had been an erotic dream. "How did you get this number?”
“The flowers. You wrote thank you on your business card.”
“And you kept it,” said Shona, feeling her anger grow. “And now you’re stalking me...” What had he said his name was?
"If I wanted action," Whatshisname's voice was frosty, "I'd use the app."
"What then?"
“To thank you for getting me fired.”
“Oh.” Shona furrowed her brow. “I... wanted to pretend Monday never happened so I asked for a change of cleaner. That's all.”
“Well I damn well got fired.”
Shona felt a pang of guilt, then irritation at feeling guilty. “Well it’s not my fault.”
“What did you expect to happen, Ms Armstrong?”
Now the guilt pressed in on her. Her mother's voice told her that she had not been a very nice girl.
“Look," said Shona. "I’ll call them. Failing that, use me as a reference, OK? You are an excellent domestic.”
There was a pause.
Shona glanced at her screen. "Was there anything else?"
"Aren't you going to at least say sorry?"
Shona was he suddenly dizzily aware of the pulse in what her mother resolutely called her lady parts.
My cunt...
"That didn't sound like sorry."
Shona squirmed in her chair. "Oh My God, are you really stuck?"
"Neither of us were role playing, were we?" The phone made his voice sound crisper, posher.
And he was posh, but she'd beaten the shit out of him. And... and the other thing.
Shona chewed her lip. Her mouth was dry. "No. It was all real."
"I'm still covered in marks. And I'm... I'm..."
"Neutered," completed Shona.
Was that a sob? Her hips twitched and her --- name it, go on name it --- cunt actually rippled hungrily.
His voice was hoarse now. "Jesus, just say sorry, that you didn't mean it."
Pressing that red button was the most evil thing she'd done. The only evil thing. "Oh, I meant it."
"You... you..." Whatshisname made a choking sound, as if too many swearwords were trying to escape his mouth at the same time.
Shona laughed. "Don't phone me again." She ended the call then started to get up.
Her crotch was really very damp.
She sat down again. How wet was she?
A quick glance assured her that the office was empty. She'd hear the lift when the others returned. Even so, she swivelled her chair to face the tinted window with its view of the whole gleaming business district, right to the river.
She undid her belt. Her trousers were loose fit and it was easy to slide a hand down the front.
Her panties were tighter, but somehow her fingers ended up inside them, parting her pubic hair and finding the hot, slippery notch where her clitoris awaited her attention.
She shut her eyes, saw Whatshisname looking up at her with his puppy dog expression, then opened them again to look out over the city... to finger fuck the city like it was her bitch.
"I'm evil!" Her finger worked faster.
There was no build up. The orgasm rocked through her, as sudden as a freak wave over a harbour wall. "Really... EVIL!"
But when she went to the Ladies to assess whether she needed to go home and change, she saw, not an evil queen, but a rumpled, frumpy woman in soggy plus-sized plaid trousers and an orange top that had been part of her "business casual" for at least five years.
Yes, she needed fresh panties, but she also needed new clothes.
As Shona marched into the nearby --- very high end --- mall, she phoned the cleaning company.
She'd blanked on the boy's name, so it took the manager a few moments to work who she yelling about. However, the manager quickly guessed that something had gone on between her and Whatshisname and refused to budge.
So Shona fired the cleaning company.
Fuck 'em.
Fuck 'em all.
Two hours later, resplendent in new form fitting trousers that showed off the length of her legs, and an unapologetically striped blouse that actually made her seem taller, she returned to her desk and started preparing her own pitch for Project X.
It was only as she completed the draft she noticed that her male colleagues, and a couple of the female ones, were looking at her... differently.
Victor sauntered over with his best disarming smile. "Are you doing anything after work?"
"Oh," said Shona. "I have a date."
Fuck 'em all... except for Victor.
No, actually, fuck nobody.
But that didn't mean she couldn't have a date. Whatshisname had mentioned an app...
While you’re waiting for the next episode, read my first novel in the CARGO ‘verse, set 10 years after the passing of the controversial Act!