Story: A Simple Act of Delegation. Chapter 7.

by Jackie J

Mrs. Ross was in no hurry now that Deborah Jackson had enthusiastically entrapped herself into the persona of Debbie, Debbie Langtry a young woman having newly arrived to take up a secretarial role at Sapphire and Ross with no history and an empty file. Deborah Jackson had willingly squirmed herself into a sticky web of self indulgence from which there would be no escape. Miss Deborah Jackson’s service record at Sapphire and Ross already air brushed from existence within the company files with the collusion of Jenny Phillips. It was now up to Miss Simpson, with the incentive of having it all, Miss Jackson’s position, salary, company apartment and car, on a permanent basis, to bring Mrs. Ross’s seedling submissive to full bloom.

Jane, Miss Simpson, had continued her readings on submissive behavior concentrating on professional and medical case studies rather than the more and many salacious offerings, entertaining as they were, this was not for entertainment this was about benchmarking Debbie’s trigger and moving her forward with her submissive desires.

A particular opening paragraph by a doctor Kapliski caught Jane’s eye.

 The self imposed, which is most effective, or inflicted suppression and denigration of ego, self, the “I” of the original persona allows the new submissive persona to flourish unshackled by previously held thought. Unchecked by the individual or forced a continuation and strengthening of this insidious denial of past and the embracement of the present leading to the catastrophic consequences of the condition known as “third person syndrome”. Only extensive therapy, which is rarely successful, can break the spell they or others have cast over them and the ego, self, the “I” of the original persona is often lost forever.  

Jane chuckled at the warning or in Jane’s case guidance!

During the first week of Debbie’s secretarial duties she effectively and willingly isolated herself professionally by typing and signing Miss Simpson’s dictated letters to all of Miss Jackson’s clients, many up to the previous weeks having been close associates of what was Deborah Jackson.  Debbie squirmed filled with new found all consuming submissive feelings finding some perverse pleasure in the self deprecation and character assassination of Miss Deborah Jackson. The repeating voice of Miss Simpson, on the Dictaphone tapes, over and over self denigrating the previous head of compliance subliminally having its desired effect. By the end of two days typing, being subjected to Miss Simpsons eloquently delivered cleverly constructed prose’ Debbie was already forming a negative opinion of this Miss Jackson woman. She was weak, frivolous, conceited, vain, and greedy.

 Sat at her desk in her skimpy outfit, the constant soft rub of her loose-fitting ruffled knickers provided by her boss and the odour not scent of her cheap perfume, another gift from Miss Simpson, constantly reinforcing her lowly status, Debbie meekly and willing typed Miss Jackson into professional oblivion for her boss, Miss Simpson.

Perhaps if any of the recipients of those letters had know that, under the increasing control of her manipulative secretary, she now sat at a secretary’s desk, her previous secretary’s desk, in a skimpy outfit squirming in the frilly panties that her boss insisted she wore, being constantly humiliated and harangued being driven deeper into a submissive persona they may have tried to help her. The tone and content of those carefully crafted letters however ensured there would be no white Knight coming to the aid of Miss Jackson.

Debbie sat outside the office entrance in Miss Jackson’s car waiting for her boss. Debbie had been sat for over an hour, no different to the previous evening, before Miss Simpson strutted down the steps to the car and slid onto the back seat.

“Right Debbie, off we go Debbie knows where we are going.”

It was Friday, Debbie’s first week completed. Each morning and evening through heavy traffic Debbie had in the morning collected Miss Simpson and driven her to the offices and in the evening taken to her back to her home then fought her way back to her own abode. With the heavy traffic it was a round trip of between two and two and half hours. During each Journey Miss Simpson complained about the traffic and the time, constantly criticising Debbie’s driving. Miss Simpson however had a solution in mind to solve all these problems.

Debbie’s weekend would not be free, Miss Simpson had some physical adjustments for her secretary planned and there would be no horse riding in the park either this weekend or ever again in fact, all facilities at the country club offered to the executives by Sapphire and Ross had been rescinded for Miss Jackson and Debbie would certainly not be welcome there.

It became obvious during the first week that Debbie’s distinctive and what could only be described “posh” accent would be instantly recognisable to callers seeking the compliance manger from the switchboard. This would never do and between Mrs. Ross and Miss Simpson, Miss Simpson’s solution was laughingly agreed. 

Debbie’s lovely over the shoulder length auburn hair was also an issue giving her an undesired look of understated sophistication, perfect for a senior executive but at odds with the persona being created. Debbie, increasingly being mentally consumed within her subordinate world, fueled by the wearing of her skimpy outfits and the ceaseless criticism and chastisement from her boss, she craved more. Debbie needed more and took little convincing that a change of hairstyle would enhance those feelings of the reckless abandonment of all control that she so desperately desired, feelings that were driving her deeper into the black hole of her self imposed submissive, subordinate existence. 

From first mention of the visit to a salon and looking through the magazine her boss had given her, to choose a style, Debbie’s emotions surged to a level of obsession from her imaginings.  Being forced into a tatty chair, of some down town cheap salon, a gum chewing apprentice hacking away at her lovely long locks, shearing away her femininity at the laughing instruction of Miss Simpson. Of course, Debbie would not be choosing the salon or her style Jane had already made that decision. Although in truth a decision not far from Debbie’s fevered imagination?

Leaving the dowdy salon looking back at the dilapidated frontage Debbie looked at her reflection in the dusty window of Tina’s. Short bleached blonde and spiky with two crimson streaks. Had Miss Jackson submitted herself to such a slaughter of her appearance it would be construed to be self harming, self abuse. Debbie however giggled and shook her head feeling the cold air on the nape of her neck her droopy earrings with the little panda’s on tinkling.

“It feels funny Miss Simpson but Debbie likes it. What is the other place you want Debbie to go?”

The experience at Bull Rogers tattoo parlor held no pleasantries for poor Debbie two painful and conspicuous locked ball stud piercings, one though her bottom lip and one through her tongue. Even the hard-hearted Jane felt a degree of sympathy for the tearful Debbie.

If Deborah Jackson was being mentally marginalised by the wonderment of her submissive suffocation, her physical appearance had been ravaged beyond recognition.

The smart sophisticated young lady dressed in designer wear with flowing long auburn hair delicately applied subtle make up and adorned with expensive jewellery was gone replaced by Debbie. Jazz leggings, fur trimmed boots, a long bulky jumper her attire. Short spiky bleached blonde hair with crimson streaks, purple lipstick, dark eye shadow and the piercing through her bottom lip and tongue a comparative mess one would say.

Jane sarcastically complimented her look and reminded Debbie that the piercings would not be removed.

“Debbie looks wonderful doesn’t she like a proper little office girl just like Debbie wanted all along and the soreness of the piercing Debbie wears for me will soon wear off. Those piercings are a gift and are to constantly remind Debbie of what Debbie is, Miss Simpson’s girly girl Friday, that’s what Debbie wants isn’t it?”

Debbie had said little since the point of her piercings but Jane was anxious to know they had the desired effect; she wasn’t to be disappointed with Debbie’s lisped words.

“Well Debbie tell Miss Simpson, this is what you want isn’t it?”

Debbie looked gratefully at her boss seeing her own reflection in the shop window behind Miss Simpson. She did look like any other young struggling low-grade office worker and weakly smiled, it was what she wanted wasn’t it, there was no pretence now. 

“Lith mlith Slimslon, thlank loo”

Jane chuckled, who would recognise that voice?

Jane put her arm around Debbie and giggled making light of her imposed vocal disability.

“Debbie sounds so cute I am sure it won’t last”

Jane knowing of course it would, not so pronounced perhaps, when the swelling goes down, but with those piercings locked in place Debbie’s voice will sound quite different to the posh superior accent of Debbie’s former self. Miss Jackson would be making no more eloquent presentations not that presentations would play any part of Debbie’s future?

The following week Mrs. Ross accelerated Miss Jackson’s demise into servitude.

Debbie was told her apartment was being refurbished, actually being prepared for the new tenant, and she would have to move out and her things put into storage until the work was completed, not that Debbie would ever be returning to the luxury of her previous life in that spacious apartment.  The dingy cramped digs arranged for Debbie, only on a temporary basis of course, were only a short walk from the offices. With the restricted space, all of Debbie’s belongings along with her expensive clothing were put into storage leaving her with only the clothes she wore to work, makeup and a few trinkets. Debbie would not see any of those things put into storage again all swallowed up in the local landfill site.

Also, within the second week it was Miss Simpson who was driving the car and dropping her secretary Debbie a few streets from the offices at her new flat. Debbie was happy with the time saved fighting through the traffic for two hours at a time and it made sense. Debbie of course had set hours at the office were as Miss Simpson did not, often leaving the offices late. On increasing occasions Debbie chose to make her own way home, then to the offices in the morning by the end of the second week it became a permanent situation. Why would a manager drive her secretary to and from work? The company car was now in the hands of the Compliance manager.

Three weeks now and in the office, Miss Simpson moved to a strict disciplinarian regime for Debbie who was becoming nervous and unsure with even the basic of tasks fumbling, all fingers and thumbs, bursting into tears only to be mocked by a gloating Miss Simpson. Anyone of sound mind would have been running from the building screaming for sanctuary but Debbie was not of sound mind and her cravings for her own degradation, at the hands of Miss Simpson, only grew stronger. Punishments introduced for Miss Simpson’s secretary, welcomed to be deserved by an increasingly timid Debbie, taking many forms. 

Mrs. Ross sniggered seeing Debbie stood in the corner of Miss Simpson’s office facing the wall with her frilly panties around her ankles. 

“I see your girl has been naughty again Miss Simpson”

Mrs. Ross strolled across the office and stood behind Debbie lifting her short skit to view the fresh cane marks on her ass.

“O dear we have been a naughty girl haven’t we, tell Mrs. Ross what you have done.”

A sniffling Debbie in her lisped trembling voice whimpered her response.

“D,D, D Debbie took to, too long for a pee pee it was right for Miss Simpson to punish Debbie, and it was Debbie’s fault Debbie deserves to be punished.”

Mrs. Ross smiled and leaving Debbie in the corner and stood by Miss Simpson’s desk.

“When you are ready send your girl down to Miss Phillips office I have decided to give it a break from secretarial duties, I have something else in mind for it.”

Stood outside Miss Philips office Debbie was eventually called through and went to take a seat in front of Miss Phillips desk.

Miss Phillips barked at her making Debbie stand back.

“How dare you sit down like you own the place stand there girl?”

Debbie meekly cowered away looking to the floor.

“Look at me girl”

The bright flash from the camera surprised Debbie and so the new photograph for Debbie Langtry’s file would not be the best. 

“You have changed your appearance quite a lot since you joined the company Debbie so I need this for the file.”

Miss Phillips chuckled looking at the two images she brought up on the screen of her PC, Miss Deborah Jackson and Debbie. Maybe the eyes but that’s the only resemblance, perfect.

“Is Miss Simpson looking after you, keeping you busy? Speak girl, tell me is Miss Simpson a good boss?”

Jenny hid her amusement listening to Debbie, gone any trace of that clear enunciation, diction and authoritative confident tone. The lisp, the meekness, uncertainty and frugal use of her words, the transformation of one so poised, confident and articulate was amazing. 

“Well glad to hear that Debbie and your new flat, settled in are we?”

Debbie toyed nervously with the hem of her skirt.

“Yes Miss Phillips, thank you Miss Phillips.”

“Good well it seems Miss Simpson is going on a development course for a few days and the team leader from the compliance section will be handling things up there so Mrs. Ross thought you deserved a break, something different, would you like that Debbie?”

“Yes Miss Phillips thank you Miss Philips.”

“It’s settled then report to Mrs. Brown in the janitors department in the morning, off you go girl back to Miss Simpson.”

“Yes Miss Phillips, thank you Miss Phillips.”

Mrs. Ross stepped through from the adjoining office.

“Well Jenny what do you think?”

Jenny sat back in her chair and smiled.

“O Winnie, she is going to be just perfect. Did you hear her Yes Miss Phillips; thank you Miss Philips three bags full Miss Phillips. Yes she is going to be perfect and that stud in her tongue Mmmm.”

Mrs. Ross chuckled. 

Yes Miss Simpson is doing a fine job, you know she reads up on all this submissive stuff I will have to watch her.”

Miss Phillips looked at Mrs. Ross with a slight giggle.

“ Yes you will, It’s exciting you all this isn’t it Winnie, shall I call on you this evening?”

Mrs. Ross’s pupils swelled and spoke anxiously.

“What time”

Miss Phillips removed her glasses and sat forward staring up at Mrs. Ross.

“Around eight Just get yourself ready for when I arrive, leave the door as usual.

Mrs. Ross spoke from a drying mouth.

“Yes of course eight I will be ready.”

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