Zoe's Awakening Pt. 01

Story Info
At a new job, her past comes back to haunt her.
3.3k words
4.13
95.3k
70

Part 1 of the 5 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 04/29/2015
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The first day of any new job is nerve-wracking. No amount of preparation or confidence in your abilities can ever really quell the nerves. Mostly, for me, it's about meeting new people. I hate it; it's so fake and forced and just awful. Sure, I might make a few friends eventually. But that first day - it's the worst.

So, when I walked into Goodman and Stern on that sunny August day, I was trying to hold my head high, look approachable, friendly. The opposite of how I felt. I smiled and shook hands with people as I met them, then began setting up my desk next to who I supposed would become my new cubicle-buddy, an older woman named Cindy. Churchy, judgmental, trying-too-hard type, I could tell right away. She gave me a tight little smile and a perfunctory handshake, looking me up and down with thinly veiled distain. As the day wore on, I was taken on tours and given names of people to call for help should I need it. I felt overwhelmed by all the information, paperwork and training manuals and by lunchtime I needed a break, so I sat in my car and trying to do breathing exercises, to no avail. I went back inside and tried to start in on some of the training papers that needed to be turned in by the end of the week.

Then I saw him. I couldn't remember his name, wasn't even sure I had ever known it. But you know when you just know a face? The set of a jaw, the shape of the eyes. I knew I had met him somewhere, he was so familiar to me. But I just couldn't place him. I'd been staring for a few moments when he approached me.

"Hi. Samuel Page. I'm the manager of this department. And you are...?" He stuck out his hand, cocking his eyebrow at me. Handsome, boyish good looks, dark hair and blue eyes, tight body, obviously worked out... I struggled to speak, as the realization of who he was dawned on me suddenly, like a sucker punch to the gut. I felt the blood drain from my face and my entire body tense. I couldn't tell if he recognized me yet. If he did, he was good at hiding it. Oh, but I bet he'll remember after a while...

I sucked in a deep breath and shook his hand with as much warmth and enthusiasm as I could muster, given my intense reaction to his presence. "Oh, Hi...Mr. Page. I'm Zoe. Zoe Wallace. It's very... nice to meet you." I said, thankful that my voice sounded level and only slightly shaky, which could be passed off as typical first day jitters. Everyone gets 'em, right?

He let go of my hand and smiled congenially. "Welcome to the team, Zoe. We're glad to have you. Please let me know if you need any help as you get accustomed to everything here. I'm just over there in that office," he said, waving an arm behind him to indicate a corner office with windows facing into the main hub, blinds currently pulled up.

"Great. Yes. I'll...do that." I sputtered, sounding more and more idiotic as the conversation wore on. I smiled, my most charming smile, and continued, "Thank you, Mr. Page. I guess I'll just finish getting set up here."

"Of course. I'll leave you to it." With a quick smile, he turned and walked to his office. I noticed that he closed the blinds when he went in this time. I hoped he wasn't in there, thinking about where he knew me from.

+++

I'd met Samuel Page a lifetime ago. Well, met is a very loose term. I'd seen him. He'd seen me. That was about it, but it was enough to make me rethink this job for fear of recognition.

It had been 8 years ago, when I was 19, at a frat party. I'd dragged my friend along, despite her protests, in hopes of scoring some weed and sucking some guy's cock in the basement. I'd gotten a lot more than I'd bargained for. The air had been thick with testosterone, with drunken cries and smoke and thudding music blaring from cheap speakers. I hadn't had anything to drink, in fact, I was stone-cold sober the whole night. Totally aware of what I was doing. I had teased a lot of the guys, with little grabs and pets here and there. A promise of more to come. Oh, and how it had come. By midnight, I'd been stuffed full of cock. I was dick-drunk. Fucking, sucking, unable to stop the whirlwind that had somehow consumed me. I'd always fantasized about it, being used by multiple men, their come on my face and tits, drying there, marking me as a whore. Somehow it had all just unfolded. There was a guy, on the periphery, I could tell he wanted a turn. Wanted a ride on the fuck machine, so to speak. But he'd been a bit shy about it, and retreated to his room for the night at some point, I'd assumed. I'd been wrong, though, because later he had reemerged to join the party once more, this time armed with a polaroid camera. I'd been so far gone, I hadn't cared a bit. In fact, I remember giving him a thumbs up for one picture, one cock in my mouth, another in my pussy, and another guy pouring beer all over my tits.

Samuel Page had been the guy with the camera. I knew that with sickening surety.

+++

On the ride home, I try to calm myself. Rationalize. It's fine; I'm different now. A new woman. Married, with a house in the suburbs. No kids yet, but Mark is adamant that we start trying. I keep taking my pills, though. I'm just not ready yet.

What could Page do? There's no way in hell he'd actually kept the pictures, all these years. And they'd been taken long before Instagram and Facebook and Tumblr and whatever other online nonsense you can think of. So I'm safe. It's ok. Nothing to worry about, nothing to see here, folks, move along.

I just can't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe... he had kept the pictures.

+++

My first week goes fine. No major mess-ups or embarrassing moments. So far, no sign that my boss remembers me. In fact, he's friendly. Charming. And, yes, a little cute. According to all the other girls in the office, that is. I'm happily married, not looking at other guys, not wondering how big their cocks are or how much they come. No. Not me. Definitely not.

As Friday comes to a close, I allow myself to relax a little. I was just overthinking things; he never even suspected anything. All I am to him is the new girl, nothing special, nothing interesting. The thought makes me feel calm.

Cindy, my new cubicle mate, approaches me as closing time rolls around on Friday. "Zoe, we thought it might be fun to go out for a few drinks, celebrate your first week?" She says, her voice too high pitched and whiny. The woman just irritates me; I don't even exactly know why. Something about the way she wears her hair and makeup, the tight little smile she gives the younger guys in the office, as if she's trying to say, "Yeah, I've still got it. I'm sexy. Right?"

I try not to grimace at her when I reply. "Aw, thanks Cindy, but I have plans. With my husband. Maybe next week?" I ask, trying to be cordial, friendly. No need to make enemies within the first month. She accepts my rejection with a little pout which quickly turns to a fake smile. "Of course, you enjoy! See you Monday, girl!" Girl? I think irritably. Neither one of us is a girl, Cindy. Time to face facts. I smile back and tell her to have a nice weekend, then, shouldering my purse, I turn to leave.

I'm halfway to the elevator when I hear someone shouting my name. "Zoe? Hey, Zoe!" Page. I stop dead in my tracks, heart hammering in my chest. I slap a big, insincere grin on my face before wheeling around to face him. I jump. He'd gotten much closer to me, and I almost run smack into him before I catch myself. In the calmest voice I can command, I reply, "Yes, Mr. Page? Is there... something you need before I go?"

He has an apologetic look on his face, and gives a small shrug. "I'm really sorry, Zoe, but yeah, I could use a little help before you leave for the weekend. I have a really big meeting coming up - we're looking to acquire a massive account - and I need to ask you something before the clients come next week." He smiles, looking sheepish and almost schoolboyish. But there's something in his eyes that makes me wary. A certain hungry quality I've seen before.

I sigh, not really trying to hide my disappointment at having to stay. "Yeah, of course. I'll help in any way I can. I just have to text my husband, he was expecting me." I go to pull out my phone and notice the way his eyes dance with mirth at the mention of my husband. Interesting.

I follow Page to his office after texting Mark a quick heads-up that I'd be staying late. He'd be fine with it, we're looking to save up to get a dog sometime in the near future anyway. I'd always said I needed a pet before a kid, so that's the next step. A puppy. Maybe a Corgi, or a Puggle. Something cute and sweet and cuddly, not too big or slobbery. I'm lost in thoughts of my future pet when I sit down in the chair opposite Page's. His office is a decent size, but sparse. No pictures, no personal touches. Just a large desk, his computer and some file cabinets in the corner. Not even a plant.

We're both sitting, staring at each other from across the desk, and there's a weird tension in the air. I have a sick feeling in my stomach. He smiles, a wolfish, feral grin. Wicked. Evil. Hungry.

"Ah, Zoe. Our newest employee. You know, I've been watching you. And I think you're going to excel here at Goodman and Stern. I just... have a feeling. A hunch, if you will. So, I've decided to go with my gut, as the saying goes, and offer you a promotion."

I'm genuinely taken aback. I can't believe I'd let me nerves get to me like that. A promotion? Seriously? I let out a long sigh of relief. "Oh my gosh, wow... I don't know what to say," I begin, laughing a little at my own silliness.

Page holds up a hand to stop me. "Now, hold on, honeybunch, I'm not done. I wanted to go over the job duties before you accept. This position will involve considerably more... work... on your part." He says, placing his elbows on his desk, leaning forward.

I nod, enthusiastically, ignoring the pet name, and start again: "Oh, of course, but I'm totally up for it..."

He laughs and cuts me off once more: "Oh, I've no doubt about that, Zoe, none at all. Let's go over the duties, though, shall we?"

He reaches down into a desk drawer and pulls out a thick envelope as well as a small, fancy shopping bag. Very feminine. The label on it says La Perla. As he arranges the items on his desk, he starts talking.

"Ah, Zoe. On your first day, I knew I'd seen your face somewhere. It took me all week to place it - but it finally came to me one night while I was at the gym, on the treadmill. It was so crazy I had to go home and check, just to make sure. Dug out the old treasure chest in the back of my closet. By golly, I was right. I've never been so glad to be a pack rat! Now, I already know the answer, but I'd like to hear you say it: Do you know who I am?"

My stomach is churning and I feel like I might puke bile. My face is numb from all of the blood leaving it so suddenly. So I was right. He does know. He remembers. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I can't lie, it's written all over my face. I've never been known for my ability to hide my emotions. I try to summon my voice, but all that comes out is a squeaky whisper: "Yes."

Page smiles, that same wicked grin. "Good girl. Oh, Zoe. I never got my turn. I can't believe how fucking perfect it is. I mean, fuck, sometimes life is so goddamned good."

He chuckles to himself, delighted with this turn of events, and continues: "So. Your new duties as my PA. Well, first off all, I want you to stop wearing that prudish church goer shit. Get some new pencil skirts. Short. Thigh high stockings, with a backseam. Heels. Good ones, at least 4 inches. Sexy. No Payless shit either. As far as your job duties, they will be... strenuous. I can fuck you whenever I want. However I want. Ass, pussy, mouth - they're all mine now. I own them. Anytime you're on the clock is a time I can have my way with you. And you will never turn me down or deny me in any way. Is that clear?"

I'm shaking all over, and it takes all the courage I have to speak. "Fuck you. I don't have to do shit. You don't know anything about me, and you don't have any proof even if you did. I have money," I lie, "How much do you want?"

He just laughs, heartily, like I've just told the most charming joke. "I don't want your fucking money, and I already know you don't have any to give." As quickly as it started, the laughter is over and his tone is clipped, completely serious as he continues. "I'm going to get what I wanted all those years ago, at that frat party. You're going to give it to me. And you want proof? Here ya go, bitch." With that, Page reaches into the thick envelope on his desk and extracts a polaroid, sliding it across his desk so that it's in front of me.

I snatch it up, wishing I had a lighter to set it on fire. The color hasn't even faded from the picture, it looks as if it was taken just yesterday. In it, I'm on my knees, sucking an enormous cock, spit and cum hanging off my chin in sticky ropes. The image repulses and intrigues me. I had forgotten how it was. How I was. I feel sick, and I shove the polaroid into my purse, intent on destroying it once I get home.

Page laughs again. "Keep it, honey. I've got more where that came from, and all of them scanned into my computer, as well as backup USB sticks and other prints. So, about the rest of your job duties. I want you wearing lingerie everyday, too. I bought you some to get you started. I had a feeling you probably married some lame ass dickwad who says inane shit like 'sweatpants are sexy.'" He says this with a derisive snort and passes the La Perla bag to me. "I want you to wear the red thing on Monday. Give me a little show to start off our new working relationship."

I feel like I've been nailed to the chair I'm sitting in and someone has placed sandbags on my shoulders. I slump, utterly defeated. If I could take even the slightest risk of Mark finding out, I would refuse Page, tell him to shove his stupid polaroids up his ass. But that's not an option. Mark knows nothing about my secret slutty past, still believes (God bless him) that I was a virgin on our wedding night. And I'd like to keep it that way.

I look Page in the eye, wishing that looks could, in fact, kill. "Fine." I spit between my teeth and grab the La Perla bag, getting up to go.

"Ah, wait one more moment Zoe. I'd like you to say, 'Thank you for this opportunity, sir. Is there anything else?'" When I don't respond immediately he makes an impatient gesture and prods, "Go on, say it then..."

Through gritted teeth and a painfully clenched jaw, I manage to say the words. "Thank you for this opportunity... Sir. Is there anything else before I go?"

Page smiles and claps his hands like an eager child on Christmas morning. "Actually, slut, there is one more thing." His smile fades and his voice turns steely. "Give me your panties." He holds out his hand expectantly.

My cheeks burn with humiliation but I shimmy out of my underwear quickly, dropping them on the desk, avoiding his outreached hand, and then turn quickly to leave. As I walk out the door, I hear his voice behind me.

"See you Monday..."

+++

For the first time since we got married, I'm actually glad when Mark tells me he's agreed to work overtime this weekend. I need time alone to think, to process the events of this evening. And apparently, I'll need some time to shop for new skirts, lingerie and heels as well.

When I arrive home on Friday night, Mark is waiting with dinner and a glass of wine. As well as a beautifully wrapped gift, sitting right in the middle of the kitchen table. I rush to him, arms outstretched, and he wraps me in a warm embrace, making me feel for a moment as if everything will be ok. It has to be. Right?

We sit down for dinner and I make a gesture at the gift. "What's that, Mark?" I ask, genuinely interested. Did I forget someone's birthday, or anniversary? I wonder for a moment.

Mark's face splits into a wide grin. "It's for you. For finishing your first week at your new job. Go on, open it." He's as eager and sweet as a golden retriever.

I smile, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach at the mention of my job. "Oh, honey, you didn't have to do that.." I trail off as I tear off the paper and stare, completely taken aback. "Oh my god. Mark. What the...how did..." I'm so excited, so surprised, I can't even finish my sentence. In my hands is a brand new MacBook Pro, a laptop. I've been wanting a new computer for over a year, when my college one finally went to the great electronics recycling plant in the sky, but when we bought the house, we had to sacrifice a lot of material wants. I stare at my husband, completely slack jawed.

He's grinning like the cat who ate the canary. "I've been saving for a while. I'm so proud of you, Z, you really deserve this. And now you can write that book you've been wanting to write forever!"

I had almost forgotten my passion for writing in the years since college. I'd been an English major, had loved reading the classics, writing papers and poetry, dreaming of the day I'd write and publish my own masterpiece. I can't help the tears that well up, the gesture is too much after a day like I've had. It kills me to lie, even if it's a lie by omission, to this sweet man. I feel like I've hoodwinked him, betrayed his trust. Like I'm not worth the dirt in our yard, let alone this expensive and thoughtful gift.

Mark brushes my tears away tenderly. "Z, I'd give you everything if I could. You are so precious to me." I'm sobbing now and I'm sure he thinks I'm crazy. Dinner is officially abandoned, and we practically run to the bedroom, where I thank him thoroughly and repeatedly, until we both fall asleep, tangled together in a heap of sweaty limbs.

I dream of being tied to a large mahogany desk and choking on my own underwear.

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12 Comments
Christoff_KChristoff_Kover 3 years ago
Kept me scrolling...

This is very good, and very hot, from beginning to end.

The main character is well fleshed out, and the scenario unfolds with believable realism. The erotic possibilities would seem endless...

I can't wait to read the rest.

Christoff.

AnonymousAnonymousover 4 years ago
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐- (5-)

:-)

kiteareskitearesover 5 years ago
Retard in lecherville

Same formula

Past turns up in the shape of old flame, witness to lewd acts, etc.

Lecher threatens to 'expose' retard to loved ones

Retard hasn't told loved ones so does what they are told

How about Retard thinks oh crap goes home and is honest with loved one.

Either loved one is understanding about retard's shame or loved one is a twat.

Returns to work and has lecher arrested for attempted blackmail and sexual harassment...or better still reverses the tables and just threatens it to their benefit.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 6 years ago
oh how I wish

If only i could live as a tied up and naked piece of fuck meat for my boss. He is married and handsome but he cheats on his wife. I know where they go as he has me arrange the events. I keep asking myself why he has not asked me when i am practically begging him to use me. These stories are giving me an idea to black mail him to use me as i want to be used .

DDfeeksDDfeeksalmost 9 years ago
loved it

nice start, made me interested in the next parts.

keep it up ;)

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