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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of o
o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o
o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o
o particular order other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to o
o be typed therefore I don’t type things myself." I think it’s o
o a lot more fun to browse around and find 'little' surprises o
o that you might not have even thought of looking for. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors. Kristen o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Corporate Assets - Or Welcome to L.A. 1/2 (MF, work, nc)
By Lindsay Crawford
**
To say that Sandra was not popular in the office was an understatement.
She was hated, despised. But she was also feared. She had worked her way up
in the corporation by knowing how to get rid of people who stood in her
way. She had learned that people needed to be put in their place. She had
fired more secretaries than anyone in the history of the company. She had
gotten rid of more co-workers than most companies hire. She specialized in
making things so unpleasant that few could stand up to it. Secretaries were
reduced to tears after a session with Sandra. Co-workers exploded in rage
at her treatment. Employes would go to their bosses to complain, but
nothing ever happened to Sandra, because Sandra was efficient. Sandra made
money for the company and as long as she did that she was protected.
At 38, Sandra considered herself a success. She was the Vice President of
Marketing for a large real estate development corporation. She had a house
in the hills outside Los Angeles. She went to Europe every year on
vacation. She drove a new Mercedes. Her light brown, almost blonde, hair
was styled by the same stylist who did Linda Evans. Sandra was well known
among the exclusive stores which line Rodeo Drive. This is what Sandra was
thinking as she looked through a brochure for cosmetic surgery. She was
proud of her large breasts, but they might be in need of some help. She
hadn't been able to keep up her regime of exercise and her stomach was
bigger than she liked. Her hips had begun to spread, making her dresses
tight. In fact her big ass had become something of a topic of conversation
around the office. She was considering whether to have liposuction to take
care of these small imperfections when she looked up and saw her secretary,
Sheila. Sheila was 23 and bright. A recent college graduate, the attractive
woman was popular with her co-workers. All of this counted against her as
far as Sandra was concerned. If there were fatal sins in Sandra's eyes,
they were being too bright, too attractive and, worst yet, too popular.
Just seeing Sheila's youth and beauty set Sandra off. She called for Sheila
to come into her office and shut the door. "I think you may be the worst
secretary I've ever had," screamed Sandra. "I've tried to work with you.
I've given you every chance and you always screw things up!" Sheila had
heard about this little play. Sandra would call in her secretary and berate
her for 30 minutes a day. Sheila had only started to work so she hadn't
really seen Sandra in action. Sandra began shrieking at Sheila. Suddenly no
part of Sheila's life was immune from Sandra's stinging criticism. Sheila
was too slow with her work; she was sloppy; she didn't dress good enough;
she spent to much time gossiping; she spent too much time socializing with
her co-workers after hours. The tongue lashing was vicious. It started with
a memo that Sandra had dictated. Sheila had gotten it word for word. Now
Sandra was claiming it was all wrong. "I've had enough of your
incompetence. Get out of my sight. I'll call personnel and order your final
check. I want you out of the office in 5 minutes or I'm calling security,"
ranted Sandra. Sheila was shocked. She had expected the yelling but not to
be fired just when she had bought a new car. She had even asked Sandra if
she was pleased with Sheila's work. Sandra knew Sheila had bought the car
on Sandra's assurance that everything was fine. "But what about my car
payments and my new apartment? What about my bills?" asked Sheila in
disbelief. "That's your problem," sneered Sandra. "You should have done a
better job, then you wouldn't be losing this one." Sheila broke into tears
and fled the office.
She ran into the stairwell and sobbed. Others in the office had noticed her
as she ran covering her face. They joined her in the stairwell. "So she got
you too?" asked Cindy, another secretary. "Look it's not you, it's her,"
consoled Tim. "She sick and cruel." "I wish there was something that we
could do to teach her a lesson," said Amy. "Well maybe there is," said Bob.
"I think we've all had enough of this bitch. And I think I know how to even
the score." "What are you talking about?" they all asked at the same time.
Bob smiled," I know a few people from my days in construction who might be
willing to settle this debt for us." With that Bob left the group and
returned to his office. Within the hour he had made a number of phone
calls. At lunch the others in the office stopped by to find him smiling.
"What are you smiling about?" they wanted to know. "Ask me no questions and
I'll tell you no lies," is all Bob would say.
Sandra finished up some last minutes details on a campaign she was
supervising as five o'clock rolled around. She was pleased with the
campaign. She was more pleased to have gotten rid of that simpering idiot
Sheila. Maybe the next secretary would have some brains, but Sandra doubted
it. The next one would not be as good looking as Sheila. That was the
problem with these young girls, Sandra decided. They only worried about
their looks. Well, she had outlasted them all. No bimbo was going to get
her goat. The same for those asshole men who were always trying to get her
to sleep with them. Fuck them all, she thought as she packed up her
briefcase and locked her office door. She always locked her door, because
she knew that others in the office would go through her files looking for
something to damage her. She was too smart for that cheap shit. She took
the elevator down to the lobby and then took another elevator to the
parking garage.
She was thinking about her newly won personal parking space as she made her
way across the garage. There were lots of people trying to get one, but she
had beaten them all. She would always be smarter and tougher than "them"
and if they tried to fuck with her, they'd be sorry. As she turned the
corner near her parking slot, she saw that a beat-up white van was stopped
in the aisle. Its hood was up and two men were bent over the engine. The
van was directly behind Sandra's Mercedes. "Get that hunk of junk out of
the way. I'm in a hurry," she yelled at the two men. They turned to look at
her. One was tall and skinny, the other was short and stocky. Both wore
dirty jeans and T-shirts. Neither said anything or made a move. Sandra
strode up to them, "Didn't you hear me? I have an appointment. A very
important appointment. Move it you assholes!" Suddenly she was grabbed from
behind. A rough hand was clapped over her mouth. She was turned and thrown
down on the trunk of her car. She dropped her briefcase. Swiftly, before
she could even think. Her hands were roughly pulled behind her back. She
felt rough cord being used to tie her hands. Something was slipped over her
eyes. The rough hand was removed, but as she opened her mouth to yell a gag
was stuffed in it. Her legs were lifted off the ground and her ankles were
tied. She felt something come near her right ear. "Yeah, you got a real
important appointment, with us," said a raspy male voice.
Sandra was lifted by several hands. She felt herself being loaded into the
van. It smelled of gasoline and sweat. The side door slid shut. The engine
roared to life and the van jerked forward. She was thrown from side to side
as the van made the sharp turns in the parking garage. Then a bump and
smooth road; They had left the garage. Sandra tried to scream through her
gag. She fought against the cords that bound her hands and feet. It was no
use, she was tied up like a sheep for slaughter.
(TO BE CONTIUNED)