Story: A Simple Act of Delegation. Chapter 9.

by Jackie J

Three months had passed since Deborah Jackson had slipped into the heels and skirts of her secretary for her temporary charade. The discovery of her games by the owner of Sapphire and Ross had led to Miss Deborah Jackson, with the collusion of her secretary Jane Simpson, being tempted and drawn deeper into her fantasies until those fantasies had become her reality. No longer the ditzy secretary her original imaginings of her degradation and subordination had been Debbie Langtry now reduced to a mere cleaner wallowing in her servility and lowly status. 

During the first two weeks in her new role Jane Simpson had delved deep into the minds and motivations of individuals such as her ex boss Miss Deborah Jackson reading the thesis of many eminent professionals. She had an incentive of course, if she could fuel those deep-seated desires held by her boss, draw her beyond a tipping point, Jane’s position of head of compliance along with its many advantages would be secured. It became clear to Jane from her studies, and did somewhat explain certain aspects of history, that certain individuals were predisposed if not desirous of their enslavement. The majority from this group of individuals according to the well-read text, were held within the invisible constraints of their financial, domestic and employment situations being already subconsciously enslaved. For those unfettered by such mundane shackles these deep-rooted emotions festered within them. This went a long way to explain why many wealthy and those engaged in professional occupations sought solace, albeit covertly, to exercise their demons, being many and varied, at the hands of others.

Story: A Simple Act of Delegation. Chapter 8.

By Jackie J

Debbie said good night to Mrs. Brown and smiled after removing her overall and putting it in her locker before pulling on her puffer jacket and heading out of the office block. Her cramped room was only a ten-minute walk but she headed for the metro like she did many evenings after her shift. Miss Jackson had never used public transport, why would she, Miss Jackson having an expensive company car to drive?

Debbie dabbed her saver card at the entrance along with the milling crowd and stood on the platform looking up the line. Propped on her heels she clutched her furry purse and waited.  

Managing to find her seat she looked across at her fellow commuters, was he here again? Debbie had no real reason to be sharing the carriage but her reasons were no less important to her than those eager to make their homeward journey. Debbie looked at the mix of travelers, old, young, some smart, some like herself and she was aware of others looking at her who looked away when she caught their eye. In her persona she was anonymous just like she had imagined before Mrs. Ross helped her, one in a crowd, nothing special just a worker on her commute. At the central station more joined the carriage than left it and Debbie was becoming aroused and stood to let an elderly lady take her seat and joined the standing crush swaying with the movement of the carriage. Debbie did nothing when the first stray hand touched her bottom, an elbow brushed against her breasts then she felt an erect penis confined within its trousers press against her thigh. Packed tight in the carriage she had nowhere to go and just stood. A tall guy pushing past to leave at the next stop smiled at her and unknowingly pressed the chap with the excited tool firmly against her. She didn’t look, she didn’t care this is why she was on the metro, she felt cheap, sullied, used, but above all ignored, she was nothing, of no value, excepting for a gratuitous grope. 

Story: Managing the Heiress. Chapter 2.

Charles Ryder just had an e-book out called The New Government, a BDSM anti-feminist novel that many of you may enjoy if you like stories here. You can find it at A1 Adult E-books. 

And now on to the next chapter of Managing the Heiress.

by Charles Ryder

Later that evening Stephen returned, but he wasn't alone. He entered the living room with an older gentleman. He introduced the man to her as Major Lytham.

"Mrs Darnley, it's a pleasure to meet you at last ma'am. Your husband has told me a very great deal about you. And ma'am, if I be so bold, he has much underestimated your beauty and charm."

Charlotte blushed prettily and thanked the Major.

"Let me explain the situation, Mrs Darnley. I am your husband's senior officer. He is one of my most valuable men. The reason I'm here is to explain his role with us and to beg a favour from you. Your husband is soon to go undercover on our behalf. That is to spy on this country's enemies." 

Charlotte put her hand to her mouth. "But Major Lytham isn't that terribly dangerous? Will Stephen be in danger at all?" 

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!

Story: A Simple Act of Delegation. Chapter 6.

by Jackie J

For the first fifteen minutes Mrs. Ross droned on covering the facts and figures of the Company’s performance with congratulations given to deserving individuals of all ranks within the business.

A brief pause whilst Mrs. Ross sipped on a glass of water her eyes piecing the crowd to focus on a trembling Debbie and she began.

“It would be remiss of me not to mention the sterling efforts during her time with Sapphire and Ross of one of our senior executives Miss Jackson. You will know Miss Jackson from the many times she stood on this very platform to eloquently delivery many a presentation to us all. During her time with the company she worked diligently to build our compliance department along with her team and in no small part her secretary Jane Simpson.”

Mrs. Ross then waxed lyrical for a further ten minutes recounting the milestones of Miss Jackson’s career over the years she had been at the company laying plaudits like confetti. 

Story: A Simple Act of Delegation. Chapter 5.

by Jackie J

Stepping out of her apartment block in her long sweeping Cashmere coat Jane smiled and chuckled at Debbie sat at the wheel of Miss Jacksons car in the short fake fur jacket she insisted Debbie buy during their visit to Pollock’s. Perhaps Debbie assumed that Miss Simpson would jump in the front beside her but opening the rear door she slid into the back seats and opened her lap top without a word.

Whilst Debbie had been squirming and wallowing in her new wardrobe during what remained of the weekend Jane had been scanning the internet. Not for anything work related although in truth perhaps it was? Jane had been reading up on submissive behavior from the mild to the extreme learning how many a closet submissive languish within their own imaginations never to fulfill their true purpose in life to be willingly subjugated. How triggers, be they verbal, physical or situational can invoke such powerful emotions within them that they gradually surrender unknowingly to their inevitable and irrational demise. 

Jane had laughed out loud reading of grown men and women, chief executives, successful professionals visiting dominatrix to satisfy their cravings to be abused. Often sacrificing family, career and wealth to become subservient to Mistresses and Masters some of the pictures of mature men and women diapered sucking dummies in frills or bound and caned made Jane doubt their authenticity believing them salacious, but there were so many examples?  Her more serious reading involved professional psychotherapist studies detailing the path of a submissive to their eventual willing surrender to their deep-seated desires. How like a drug their cravings for more loss of control eventually reaches a tipping point from which there is no return.  A situation from which the greater their degradation and humiliation the more perverse pleasure they obtain until they become nothing more than slaves worshipping those who abuse them. In extreme cases constantly restrained often suited, masked and sexless.

Story: Managing the Heiress. Chapter 1.

by Charles Ryder

Stephen Darnley straightened his uniform tie and checked to make sure his cap was square on his head. He tucked his swagger stick under his arm and rapped on the imposing door. It was answered almost immediately by Jenny the immaculately uniformed maid.

"Won't you come in Captain? I'll tell the young mistress that you're here sir"

Stephen merely nodded and stepped into the baronial hall. My word but it was an impressive room! The furniture positively groaned under the weight of its opulence. Magnificent hunting trophies decorated the walls. Extravagant silks and carpets were strewn carelessly around the huge space. He couldn't begin to fathom what it had all cost. And that was just one room in the vast mansion. His reverie was broken by a rustling behind him. He turned just in time to witness her descending the last few steps of the massive double staircase.

She was a beauty, of that there could be no doubt. Quite small even for a woman, blonde and very slim. She had a heart shaped face, dominated by bright blue eyes. He knew from previous observation that she had little womanly shape. Her breasts were very small and her buttocks almost non-existent. But on the other hand she was only nineteen years old. He had no doubt that she would develop in a most pleasant way.

"Captain Darnley, how good of you to come sir."