From me@nowhere.com Mon Jul 14 10:15:01 1997
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From: me@nowhere.com
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: NEW Lisa's Leash (F/F, M/F, BD)- Marlissa
Date: Mon, 14 Jul 1997 14:15:01 GMT
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Lisa’s Leash

by Marlissa


Lisa and I weren’t particularly close, so I was a little surprised
when she asked me if I’d like to have lunch with her.  

"Sure, fine, great."  

I was taken aback and my politeness pilot automatically kicked in.
And lunch was actually fun.  I was pleasantly surprised.  I had always
distrusted Lisa.  Though we worked in different departments, she had a
reputation that was well-known.  One of those hyper-careerists, she
had an unerring sense of corporate timing.  She always knew whom to be
seen with, what projects to associate herself with and how to play the
game.  

And I knew I wasn’t one of those company players—I admit, I’m bit of a
mouse.  I like my quiet job in Accounting.  I’m always courteous,
dress conservatively and in general keep to myself.  I take care of
myself—I like to jog at lunch everyday—and I’m considered cute (an old
boyfriend once told me I looked like Joyce DeWitt).  But I’m a
self-confessed wallflower.  Which was why it was flattering to be
approached by the flamboyant blonde Goddess of Marketing—I was
surprised she even knew my name!

As much as I disapproved of her grandstand manner, especially for one
so young—she was all of twenty-five—I accepted.  But as I said, lunch
was very enjoyable.  Despite what I had thought and heard about her,
she was actually very nice when you got to know her.  For all her
stylish clothes, her high profile position in the company and striking
beauty, she seemed very lonely—no doubt because everyone assumed she
was such a bitch.

"But you’re different, Karen.  You’re SO damn nice—I really appreciate
you’re taking your lunch with me.  It’s been hard since the break-up."


Her blue eyes misted and I examined my salad.  Everyone knew about the
break-up.  Dan, another up-and-comer in Finance, was actually my boss,
though he was only twenty-seven and I was thirty-six.  I was just one
of his drones and he barely acknowledged me in the departmental
meetings.  He and Lisa had been an office item for the past year,
until recently.  Something had happened and since then the two had
studiously ignored one another in the hallways since.

"I can imagine."  Actually I couldn’t—it had been a while since I had
been in a relationship.  Flat chested brunettes weren’t in high demand
recently.  Even when I was asked out, the promising date never got
much farther when I’d inform the gentleman in question later on in the
evening  that I wasn’t THAT kind of girl.   Needless to say, there
weren’t many second dates.  

She thankfully gave me the benefit of the doubt for all my phantom
experience with romance.  For the next sixty minutes, we chatted
lightly about office politics, where I learned more from my younger
co-worker than I had in the proceeding ten years at the firm, and
sipped white wine.  I take a drink perhaps three or four times a
year—my absitenence at office parties threw an unwelcome spotlight on
me—but the fine, cool wine was welcome today.  As we chatted gaily,  I
could understand why she had been so successful—she was so easy to
talk to—and I wasn’t as envious as I had been only a short time ago.
I even regretted the lunch’s abrupt seeming end and said so.

"Say-- to hell with men!  Let’s have a regular girl’s night in
tonight!"  She quickly suggested a rental and some Chinese take-out at
her apartment.  It was flattered, maybe too obviously because I was a
bit slow in my reply.  She sighed and waved the suggestion away.

"Oh, well—maybe another time."

"No!  Let’s do it!  Really, it’s fine."  

"Really?"  She didn’t want to presume.

"Oh, let’s do it—it would be great to have a girl’s night!"

I surprised myself with how eager I was to spend time with my new
friend.  Maybe I’m too particular, but I don’t have many close
friends.  I’m perfectly pleasant—I had fast friends in college—but I
don’t gossip or waste my time on silliness.  Some found me—I admit—I
bit prickly.  Still Lisa’s invitation proved I’m wonderful company
with the right person.

It was the wine that made me a little giddy the rest of the afternoon,
but the prospect of spending an evening in some place other than the
same four walls of my modest apartment may have had something to do
with it.  My boss Dan gave me a hard look or two over the top of my
cubicle and I guessed he had seen me leaving with Lisa earlier.
Perhaps he didn’t much care for the idea of his lowly accounting
assistant having lunch with his ex.  I on the other hand savored the
conspiratorial sensation—though I respectful averted his glance when I
knew he was staring at me with his troubled, handsome face.  Let him
wonder.

I met Lisa promptly outside her office, though it was closed.  A knock
elicited a cheerful request that I come back in twenty minutes—she was
in a brief meeting.  I did so, returning to my desk and finishing up
some filing which Dan had thoughtfully left me before leaving for the
day.   Twenty minutes later, Lisa’s door was opened and she was
drawing on her suit jacket.  She shared some directions to an
expensive condo development and I dutifully jotted them down.  I in
turn offered to pick up the Chinese take-out.

"Great—let me do the wine and the movies."  

Forty-five minutes later, we were ensconced on a leather couch in
Lisa’s impressive living space, I place I couldn’t have afforded at
twice salary.  When I complimented her on her home, she tossed her
blonde hair and laughed, then caught herself, as she realized that I
really was impressed, no simply polite.

"Oh, it’s nothing.  I’m looking at a place over on the West Side
that’s something though.  Let’s put the movie in."

I did so, feeling awkward somehow and anxious that the physical task
would restore our equality somehow.  Soon we were quietly engrossed in
the movie and enjoying the take-out.  It was some romantic comedy from
the Forties which I had never seen, but evidently Lisa had, for she
knew the cues and scenes by heart.  She pressed more wine on me and
not wishing to seem prudish, I accepted.  She had returned from the
kitchen for the third time with filled glasses and I was feeling
decidedly tipsy.  We sat and watched, sipping the wine in more
generous swallows, but the mood was shifting.  My hostess had grown
progressively more silent, despite the rising intensity of the farce.
Once when I looked over, I realized there were tears coursing down her
tanned cheeks.

"Lisa?"

"Oh damn!"  She looked at me with a haunted, miserable expression and
hid her eyes.

I rose shakily, unsure as to what to do.  "I s-should leave."  I
looked around the slightly spinning room for my purse.

"Please, no.  I’m sorry."  She quickly composed herself with the
tissue I handed her from my purse and I resumed my seat.  Fortified
with my wine glass, I prepared to assume the role of confidant, for
surely there was some awful reason why the Goddess of Marketing should
lose control in front of me.

"I can’t help thinking about that--," she was unable to complete the
statement.

"I know, I know," I offered, comforting her was a soothing nod.

She twisted her face up in an evil, visceral way that made me flinch.
"He’s into such--- disgusting things.  That’s why I left him."

"What…things?"

Those sharp red lips curled in world-weary wisdom.  "Oh, those things
that men always seem to like—you can imagine."

I shrugged in a sophisticated way.  "What, uh, particularly?"

She seemed anxious to humiliate her former beau and was quickly
forthcoming, spitting out each indignity with the rapidity of a
machine gun burst.  "Oh, first with the bimbo outfits he was always
trying to get me into—you know, what the other girls wear in your
department."

I knew well—the twenty-somethings in their miniskirts and little tops
that revealed so much who pranced around, winking at the male
executives.  They hated me because I looked down on them and they
never invited me out to their little lunches because of it.  

"But that was the least of it.  The blow jobs, the facials—"

My heart jumped a beat.  They did sound awful, shameful…and yet darkly
compelling.

"—dildos and vibrators—"

I had always wondered what they were like, confining myself to an
occasional fingering or two.

"—spankings and bondage—"

The vision of Lisa stretched bare-bottom over Dan’s knees filled my
wine-soaked brain.  The Proud Ice Queen of Marketing on her knees—on a
leash.

"—even anal sex.  God, he’s so sick!"

I nodded, mouth agape.  "Yes," I managed at last, "sick."

Those cool blue eyes flashed furiously at the mention of these
humiliations.  "I would NEVER have anything to do with any of
those…things he so much wanted to do.  And so we broke it off—good
riddance.  Still…"

There was more?  So there was.  Running her fingers through her long
blonde hair, she took hold of herself, apologized quickly and sipped
her own wine.

"I can’t believe he talked me into it-- the bastard!"  She spat the
words out like she was expelling acid from her fierce red lips.

Again, I traded on my phantom stock in the romantic enterprise,
assuming she was referring to the affair.  "There are others—you are
beautiful," I added, pointing out the obvious.

She nodded—that was a given.  Then she shook her head.  "No—it isn’t
that.  It, well, this is difficult…"

I leaned forward, with dozens of humiliating situations suddenly
illuminating the mystery.  She was pregnant, he was gay, there was
another woman--- I carefully kept the smirk off my face.  My eyes
assumed that ‘yes, tell me everything’ cast and I nodded, encouraging
her to continue to confide in me her new friend.

Then she looked up, relieved in a way.  "You know Karen, I wanted to
share this with somebody and I’m glad it is you.  I don’t have many
friends-’

This was untrue—she had lots of friends—but she was trying to be
polite.

"- but I needed to tell someone who is solid, dependable, reliable--
someone who could keep a confidence."

I couldn’t keep the proud beam from my eyes as I listened intently.

"Oh sure a lot of people don’t like you—they think you’re too
old-fashion, a stick in the mud, a school marm and all that.  But not
me—I respect you Karen.  And," she inhaled deeply, "I trust you."

"Go on Lisa—what is the matter?"  I pressed insistently.  I was
determined to drag it out of her, friend or no friend.  I fought a
delicious, guilty flutter in my stomach—Lisa was ashamed of some awful
thing!

"Pictures," she stated, looking into her wine.

I repeated the word, not understanding.

"Yes.  Dan…took them.  And he won’t give them back—the bastard!"  The
acid was gone.  It had been replaced by a creeping fear.

So that was it!  I had no idea the blonde Ice Queen was so kinky!
Well, well, well.  A rising sense of righteousness bloomed within.

"What will he do with them?" I asked cautiously.

Her blue eyes widened.  "I don’t know!  He won’t talk about them!  But
I know he has them, even where they are!  But as long as he has them—"

"If you know where they are, why not just get them?"  Her hard-edged
common sense seemed to have deserted Lisa in her predicament!

"They’re in his apartment—"

"So you can’t get them afterall—"

"Well, I DO still have his key, but—"

I wanted to shake the silly young woman.  I was eleven years older
than her after all, and despite her successful career, I did have some
advantage in life experience.

"Then, simply go into his apartment and GET them, Lisa."  It was
technically breaking and entering and I had coolly advocated it.   It
was a strange and pleasant twist for the Wallflower to be bold and the
Queen to be so timid about things.  I took another healthy swallow of
the expensive, dry wine, staring at her expectantly.

"I couldn’t do that—it would be, well—illegal!"  Her bright blues had
lost their brash confidence.  She was just a scared little girl now.

Lisa in a g-string.

"Besides," she added, "people know me there—they know we dated.  If I
went into his apartment and he reported a theft…"

Lisa on a leash.

"I’ll do it."  She’d owe me now, wouldn’t she?

Now the apprehension, the misery, and the uncertainty in those
luminous blue eyes evaporated.  Gratitude replaced them.  She smiled,
those sharp cherry red lips arching sweetly.

"Let me get you another glass of wine."

We drank more wine, then I realized how late it had become—then drank
some more wine.  It was impossible for me to drive at this point—we
both realized it.  So Lisa pulled out the sofabed and we continued to
enjoy our newfound complicity in this little espionage I had
concocted.  It was like a slumber party—both of us giggling and
drinking until finally, after a last too-potent glass, I collapsed
into a vinous sleep.

I dreamed and was aware of it vividly.  Two women played a part—one a
slender, short-haired brunette, the other a lustrous long-maned
blonde.  One shy and small busted, the other proud with pulchritude.
One primly pretty—the other a self-aware beauty.  But one held a whip
and the other cowered before her.  The whipwielder wore a Mistress’es
black lace corset and stockings, the slavegirl a mere scrap of red
silk to cover her sex.  She watched ecstatically, a voyeur in her own
visions, as the Mistress began training the slavegirl
patiently--expertly—strictly.  There were lessons in new rules, in
serving another.  There was more too—vaguer sensations of penetrations
by tongues and toys and more.

Karen sprang into reality, staring like a zombie into Lisa’s worried
face.

"You o.k.?"

Sleep shook off slowly.  I nodded.

"I was worried—you really enjoyed that wine last night.  It’s almost
seven-thirty--you better get back to your place.  I’ve got an earlier
meeting so I better scoot."

I felt the wetness between my legs immediately.  Casually I reminded
her I needed the keys to Dan’s apartment.  The keys to Lisa.

Lisa on a leash.

"Here you go—I didn’t want to say anything if it was, uh, just the
wine talking…" she admitted, trailing off.  She was wearing a navy
blue Anne Klein suit that befitted her mover and shaker role.  I idly
wondered what she’d look like in a hip-hugging spandex mini.

I took the glittering silver key from her hand.  "It wasn’t.  I’ll
take care of everything.  Wait for me after work today.  Things will
change," I promised.  In more ways than she could imagine.  She left
me with a flash of her smile, all gratitude and friendship and I
accepted it all with a pert, patronizing smile.  

Then my groggy brain registered the fact than under the covers, I was
completely nude.  And thoroughly aroused.

The first part of the day was a blur.  Dan scolded me mildly for being
fifteen minutes late, but since it was the first time I’d been tardy
in my entire seven years with the firm, he knew better than to push it
too far.  I accepted the rebuke with impatient silence, then returned
to my desk without comment.  I contented myself with the thought of
the upcoming invasion of his privacy.  If he only knew!

Lunchtime finally came.  Dan implied I should make up my fifteen
minutes then, but I blithely ignored the suggestion.  I had to get to
the Registry, I informed him, then left the department before he had a
chance to interfere.  

"Just be back by one!" he called after me.  I waved back an
acknowledgment and slammed the door.  My little errand wouldn’t take
longer than that.

Traffic and some missed turns did conspire to make the trip longer
than I calculated.  Still I pulled up to the address Lisa had given me
in plenty of time, a tall pre-war brownstone that was numbered among
the city’s more exclusive addresses for successful young singles.
Looking around me like an amateur sleuth, I ascertained no one was
even in the hallway in front of Apartment 1017.  Fatefully, I turned
the key in the lock and entered Dan’s apartment.  Immediately, I noted
the handsome surroundings with disgust.  Both Dan and Lisa enjoyed
high-paying positions, were attractive and lived in places that made
my studio look like a broom closet.  Who were they?  I had played by
the rules all my life and had nothing to show for it!  Well, that
would change.  

There was the desk, where the computer stared back blindly at me.
Gripping the bottom drawer by the edges, I drew it out slowly.  The
thick manila envelop was just where Lisa said it would be—good girl.
Gingerly I lifted it out.  Dan realized what a treasure it
represented—it was thoroughly taped up from end to end.  It had a nice
heft to it—it was a good two inches thick!  My goodness—Miss Lisa was
captured in dozens of compromising poses!  I’d have fun reviewing them
at my leisure.  In fact, I was dying to tear into it when the phone
rang.  I almost dropped the package in fright.

Reality tapped me on the shoulder.  I could be arrested for what I was
doing!  Me—of all people, a trespasser!  The phone refused to stop
ringing, each grating jingle biting into my resolve.  My eyes twitched
o the desk clock—ten of one.  Time to leave.  I clutched my prize and
hurried out, grateful no one was wondering why the phone kept
insisting on being picked up in 1017.  My heart spasmed all the way
back to the office, though from exhilaration or fright I couldn’t say.

After carefully depositing the taped package in the bottom drawer of
my desk, I was immediately greeted by Dan.  With a gruff
determination, he pointed to his watch, informing me that I was twenty
minutes late and I would be making up that time after five o’clock.  I
nodded tightly, though my face flushed a bit.  He was chastising me in
front of my younger co-workers, who cattily smirked at my
unprecedented upbraiding.

"Frankly I’m surprised Karen.  You’re usually so dependable.  Is there
a problem you’d like to discuss?" he asked curiously.

As if a twenty-seven year old had anything to tell me about life!
Besides, I doubt he’d appreciate the particulars of my ‘problem’—or
opportunity!  I shook my head resolutely ‘No!."

"Fine.  I want you to work on this filing for the rest of the
afternoon."  He dropped a huge stack of past invoices, which virtually
covered my entire desk.

"But the junior girls do this kind of work!"

Now he was insistent.  "Today," he replied starchly, "you will do it."
With that he left, staring down the foolish, giggling girls who were
enjoying my situation.  My own eyes bore into his back, not even
bothering to conceal the hate.  Frustrated, I began to sort the files
that would require my whole afternoon to deal with.

As the interminable afternoon wore on, I daydreamed about what the
photos would reveal about my Lisa.  I had never so much as thought
about another woman before—the idea repelled me.  But this was a
chance a wallflower would never get again.  All the snickering, the
unspoken jibes from the silly secretaries with their boyfriends, from
my peers, all more successful and happier than me, all the patronizing
remarks and commands from younger superiors like Lisa and Dan—it had
built up within me.  And now the opportunity in the form of the
confession and the photos—it was a gift from God.  Now I had what I
had never had before.  I had power over another.  Even if it was over
another female, I would take it.  Even now my imagination pivotted
from fantasy to fantasy, all involving a stern Mistress and a pretty
slavegirl.

Lisa on a leash.

My phone rang me harshly out of my erotic reverie.  It was Lisa.

"Did you—you know—get them?"  Her voice fluttered on the other end
like a butterfly.

I smiled.  "Oh, yes."

"Can you, uh, bring them to me now?"  

I looked at the wall clock.  Five seventeen.  "In a few minutes.  I’ll
meet you in your office."

She murmured more gratitude, but I hung up on her.  Dan was
approaching.

"Have you finished the filing?"

"Yes, it’s all finished Dan."

"Fine.  You can leave then.  But Karen, remember I can’t run a
department with you picking and choosing your own hours.  Understand?"
His wan handsome face stared me down.

"Yes Dan."  I couldn’t return his stare.

"You may go."  He walked away.

I waited a moment, till he returned to his office and shut his door.
Then, ducking down I transferred the manila enveloped into my large,
practical purse.  Taking the elevator up to Lisa’s office, I
considered how to play my next move.  I hadn’t quite rehearsed my
blackmail speech, but I knew it would sort of bubble out of me.  As I
entered Lisa’s office, I was a giddy as a schoolgirl.

She smiled with those sharp, red lips of hers and offered me a seat,
even as I was taking it.  I shut the door behind me.

"Got it?"  Her fingers danced on the desktop.

I nodded, first drawing out Dan’s apartment key.  I was anxious first
to get rid of that evidence of my criminal behavior.  I slid it onto
the smooth desktop.

"Here."

The door behind me opened.  I turned.  It was Dan.

Lisa looked up.  "Do you need this?"  She held up the key.

He considered and shook his head.  "Shouldn’t she have it?"  He tossed
his head at me without a second look.

"I suppose so."  She reached into her purse.  "Here’s mine."  She
unclipped a spare key, laid it on top of the other and slid them back
toward me.  

I looked down at them dumbly, not quite knowing what to do with them.


"You have the photos?" It was Lisa.  She asked as casually as if she
were asking the time.

I nodded, my brows creased at her failure to be more subtle.  My hand
dropped down to the manila package and I clutched it with an iron
grip.  He was right here in her office and--

"Yes, let’s see them."  Dan’s wry, amused undertone both annoyed and
chilled me.  As did Lisa’s nonchalance is pushing a letter opener
toward me.

My questioning expression received a blank look from Lisa’s clear,
blue eyes.  Dan was still behind me, looking down over my shoulder.
Numbly I cut through the heavy tape, cutting open the envelope lip.
Glossies peeked out from inside.  

"Show and tell," chided Dan.  Lisa’s cheshire cat grin followed me as
I withdrew a handful of the three by fives.  I began flipping through
them, slowly at first, then manically, like some demented poker
player.

"Put that thing down."  It was Dan, commanding me.

My knuckles were white from the intensity of the grip.  I loosen it,
letting the letter opener drop to the carpeted floor with a light
‘thwup.’

"How?"

Lisa’s perfect, white teeth spread to life under those perfect, shap
red lips of hers.  "Flunitrazepam."

"Also known as rohypnol," Dan kindly expanded.  "The rape drug."

I dropped dully back into the photos.  I sighed.  The brunette’s pale,
tense face was cast respectfully down, even as she thrust out her
small breasts for an unknown master or mistress.  Now she knelt,
masturbating in fear, a crop raised over her back to ensure
compliance.  Then on her knees, her head buried between the
black-stockinged long legs of another woman, lips pursed against her
sex.  Nude but for a red silk thong panty.  Me.

"Why?"  

Lisa shrugged.  "What I told you was true-- I had broken up with Dan.
I wasn’t about to do the things he wanted me to do—"

The party in question rolled his eyes comedicly at me.  I shuddered in
revulsion—I knew what those things were.

"-- just as he refused to do things I wanted done.  So we needed
someone who would service each of our needs.  That way," she rose and
standing on the other side of me, took her boyfriend’s hand, "we have
everything we want."

"And deserve," added Dan solemnly.

There was only one question left.  Actually two, but I already knew
the answer to the last one.

"Why me?"

"Well, I didn’t want a pretty girl," Lisa cruelly admitted, teasing my
chin with a rub of her forefinger, "who would challenge me for my
man."

"And I didn’t want a naughty girl," Dan agreed, while putting his hand
on my shoulder, "who would be difficult to control."

I crossed my arms over my chest.  "What will you make me do?"

Dan moved his hands down over my breasts, then squeezed them hard.
"Oh—anything we want.  Lisa, would you lock the door, please?"

My life has changed quite a bit since then.  

I’ve grown my short dark hair out and dyed it a bright red.  My
conservative pant suits are gone, replaced with snug minis and
colorful, tight-fitting tops—all of which advertises unequivocally
that my new position is Dan’s new personal assistant.  He let it be
known that my demotion—and that’s exactly what it was, he always makes
clear—was due to my attitude ‘problems’ and inability to work
effectively with my co-workers.  I’ve been publicly instructed by him
to smile, be as helpful as possible and to show a "more respectful
demeanor" to my superiors.  This includes all the younger accounting
assistants I once worked with.   In my new place in the departmental
hierarchy, I have little recourse but to endure their petty jibes with
a mask-like smile.  These young women—girls really, for I’m ten years
older than many of them—make a game of tormenting me.  As the
administrative assistant in the department, they have lots of latitude
to do so.  Cold coffee, misfiled documents, unanswered phones—all go
reported to Dan.  Dan, who is always looking for the slightest pretext
to discipline me.

That’s the worst aspect of my new living arrangement.  Curiously, the
other parts aren’t as odious as you might suspect.  Not that it would
make the least difference if they weren’t—their control over me
tightens daily.  Lisa was the one who suggested putting the photos on
the newsgroups.  I didn’t know what they were, till Dan showed me.
And they I was—in the more incriminating poses, lewdly stretched out
in my whorish lingerie playing with one of my new ‘toys’—available for
viewing around the world.  Only my face is absent from these
pornographic visions—a face that Dan and Lisa promise will appear
across the Internet as soon as I disobey any command given to me.

But like I say, it isn’t as bad as I thought it would be at first.
There are the new toys and if I’m attentive to the needs of my master
and mistress, I am permitted to play with them to relieve myself.
I’ve become quite adept at performing orally—even my mistress has
expressed her satisfaction with my performance in this regard.  The
taste of my owners’ sex is always on my lips now.  And the master is
pleased with my eagerness to accommodate him anally now—a practice
which I’m the first to say required some initial corporal training to
persuade me to accept.  I even bear up well under the mistress’s
strap-on—I hardly ever cry anymore.

I’m even doing better in all the bondage games we play.  My pussy
wettens now when the collar is placed around my neck.  And when I see
myself in the mirror—on my fours between my master and mistress—I
don’t even need my toys to cum.  All I need to see is the reflection
of the new me—Karen, thirty-six year old plaything to my young,
beautiful, and harsh master and mistress.  

Karen on a leash.

THE END