Converting Rachel

This is a vignette from the broader DevTech universe introduced in 'An Office Encounter'. It provides some context to the role of Rachel in the ongoing saga.

This is a story with themes of non-consent and sexual manipulation, entirely meant for purposes of fantasy and has no place in real life.

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Her day had started with an unexpected phone call, asking if she would be available for an interview with a Mr Roger Jenkins, MD of DevTech. Four months previously, she'd applied for an entry position as financial analyst with the company but had not been successful. Since then she'd continued to send out her CV to numerous companies. Yet she had not even been called back by most. And had been rejected by all those to which she had been invited for an interviewed.

She shuddered when she thought about all those sleazy HR managers and potential bosses, ogling her as she sat through endless meaningless questions. How does one get a first job in the current climate, with the uncertainty of Brexit and lacklustre global growth? And those bloody politicians acting like petulant children while people like her suffered!

She felt slightly apprehensive as she entered his office. Mr Jenkins rose from behind his uncluttered modern desk and strode confidently towards her. He was a distinguished fit-looking man, dark hair with greying temples, and an aura that exuded authority. Her apprehension just increased, feeling like a little girl in comparison.

"Good morning Rachel, so good of you to come at such short notice." He shook her hand with just enough firmness to reinforce his command of the situation and indicated one of two high-backed chairs beside a coffee table. "Please join me for a chat about your future." She noticed a large leather ottoman on the other side of the table, thinking that it seemed out of place in an executive office.

As they sat down, it was clear that he was appraising her. Not in the smutty way that most of the other interviewers had, but rather like an eagle in a tree watching a rabbit run across the field below. His gaze went self-assuredly from her professional court shoes up her graceful legs, which she had crossed demurely, over her curved hips in the smart knee-length skirt, halting briefly at the swell of her breasts hidden behind a blouse and jacket, past her full red lips and up to her anxious eyes, looking out from a pretty face framed by blond tresses.

"I believe that you applied for a job with us a few months ago but were not successful. In fact, a friend of yours was selected over you. From all accounts, I understand that she will become quite a useful asset to the company. I think her name is Jane, not so?"

He could see that he had hit a raw nerve, just as he intended. A flash of resentment crossed her face as she responded "Yes, actually it was only after I had applied that she submitted her application. And then she got my job."

"How did that make you feel, Rachel?"

The simple question triggered her ingrained feelings of inadequacy and insecurity. It seemed that all her life in both school and university, she was on the periphery of the popular set. She was nominally friends with the prettiest and most fashionable girls, but she always felt they laughed at her behind her back. She believed she was only accepted because she had known Jane since primary school, and Jane was always the ringleader of the trendy cliques. Jane always beat her, whether it was at sport or schoolwork. Even her own sister said she liked Jane more than her, and that Rachel was a loser. Years of being put down had given Rachel the conviction that she would never be good enough, but also a supressed bitterness and anger.

It was this ambivalence that Roger knew he could exploit, and when she did not respond he probed again "Tell me Rachel, how do you feel about what Jane did?"

After another long silence she replied in a quiet voice, almost to herself. "She's supposed to be my friend. She shouldn't have done that. It was my job, I found it. I wish she didn't always have to win."

Roger saw the gap and pounced "I understand Rachel. It's not fair. I agree, she was out of line." He paused to let that sink in and then continued, "I called you here today to offer you a job. My personal assistant had to depart with little warning, and I am looking for a replacement. We looked at your psychometric profile and considering your management degree, I think you are well suited to what I am looking for. You will be competitively remunerated. Are you interested, Rachel?"

While being an PA was not what she intended as a career, the months of searching for a job and the feelings of insecurity that he had intentionally tapped into, made her feel like she had no other real option.

"Yes, please. I would, Mr Jenkins." And as she said this, she felt a sense of relief and gratitude wash over her.

"Good, Good! I'd like you to start tomorrow. Can you do that?" Without thinking she nodded. He continued. "There are a few details we must also agree. You have an opportunity to learn a great deal, will be exposed to sensitive information, and will meet many important people. I'll personally instruct you and help you to become everything you were meant to be." He said this last sentence with a particular emphasis and a piercing look.

"This will be essential for your career development, but in return I demand complete loyalty and you must follow any instruction I give you, without question. If you do this, your progression will be accelerated and before long you should be more important to the company than your little friend Jane. Can you do what I want, Rachel?"

After the emotional rollercoaster of the past quarter hour, the prospect of beating Jane eclipsed any doubt she may have had about the meaningful way he had emphasised 'loyalty', 'any instruction' and 'without question'. The apparent sincerity and authority with which he made the offer eliminated her reservations and she answered "Yes, Sir." Maybe in this position, he would protect her from the continual barbs and ridicule she felt from her supposed friend, at least at work.

"I also need you to do one more thing for me Rachel. As my PA, you represent me and that requires a certain image. I require you to dress accordingly: in a tailored blouse, skirt no less than four inches above the knee and 3-inch heels. We need to project a sense of sophistication from the office of the MD. Is that acceptable?"

She had come this far, and he had been so supportive. That sounded business like, so why not? "Yes, Mr Jenkins."

With that, he stood and held out his hand to help her rise. He continued holding her hand and his other hand slid gently down to her lower back where it rested, as he guided her towards the door. The innate power and confidence of this act sent a slight shiver down her back and into the pit of her stomach. "See you tomorrow morning, Rachel. I look forward to working with you."

The next day went by uneventfully, with Rachel going through induction, filling out the required paperwork of a new employee, as well as running a number of routine errands directed by Roger. Late in the afternoon, Roger summoned her to his office. He was already sitting in his customary chair by the window when she knocked and went in.

"Come in Rachel." He said without rising. She started walking towards the other chair, when he held up his hand and indicated she should go over to the ottoman. "My staff sit over there, my dear. These chairs are for clients and executives. But before you sit, let me look at your attire. Please turn around, slowly." Feeling slightly uncomfortable at the unusual request, but not wanting to make a fuss, she did as he instructed. He really did look at her as if assessing her choice of clothes, so maybe this was not so unreasonable.

In fact, she felt quite good about her clothes selection, with the short tight black skirt and diaphanous blouse, especially when he complemented her. "Very good, Rachel. You did just as I requested. Very sophisticated indeed. While you are up, please will you pour me a drink? A scotch I think."

She was beginning to become accustomed to following his instructions and went over to the bar to pour the requested drink. She had not been offered anything and thought it would be presumptuous to assume. While she was busy, he asked how her first day had been.

"Oh, it's been great. Everyone has been so welcoming. Even Jane was impressed, and I think slightly jealous, when I told her about my new role." Her eyes shone with pride as she said this, handing him the glass. He then ordered her "Please sit down." Feeling a bit like a little girl, she obediently returned to the ottoman. As she sat, she realised that the seat was lower than her knees with her heels. This made it awkward to keep her knees together as she sat, so they parted slightly showing him a flash of her plain white cotton panties.

Looking puzzled, he commanded brusquely "Rachel, please stand up. I thought I could see the outline of your underwear through your skirt. What are you wearing under that skirt? My instructions were to be sophisticated. That means all of your attire. Not just what you wear on the outside. Pull up your dress and let me see!"

Rachel started standing up, but stopped half-way as the intent of his words sunk in. The good feelings about her day shattered in that moment and she instinctively responded with a puzzled tone. "No, I can't. . . You . . You can't make me to do that."

Roger glared back at her, his grey-blue eyes looking particularly cruel. "You will do as I instruct, or you can walk out that door and never come back. Furthermore, I will go out of my way to ensure you do not find another job in the City. Remember what you agreed yesterday?" Rachel saw her new life disintegrate in front of her eyes, together with the opportunity to outdo Jane. All of her insecurities and anxieties came crashing in as Roger stared at her in a battle of wills. Unfortunately, her ingrained feelings of inadequacy meant she would never have the strength to deny a man with Roger's authority, certainty and experience in getting his way.

I'm sure it's fine, she rationalised. What's so bad about showing my underwear, compared with the alternative? She slowly stood up and shyly lifted her skirt the short way up her legs until the hem reached her crotch. "Higher" he demanded. She couldn't look him in the eyes anymore, so looking down at her hands she lifted them higher to expose her underwear. She wasn't sure if it was the feeling of humiliation or submitting to a powerful male authority figure, but she suddenly realised that her pussy was soaking. The tingle in her crotch increased and this compounded her sense of shame. She prayed that he could not see the impact this was having on her.

"Rachel, this will not do. In my office you are to wear sophisticated lingerie, and that goes for your bra as well. From what I can see, I assume it is the same 'regulation plain'. Go across to the second draw on the right of the drinks bar, and you will find a box. Bring it to me." Her mind in a whirlwind, she stumbled to obey, not even taking time to pull her dress down her legs.

Finding the box, she returned and stood in front of Roger. He opened the box and inside was the most flimsy, lacy and feminine black lingerie she had ever seen. Just thinking about wearing this at work made her pussy pulse and begin to gush.

"This is what I will expect you to wear in future." His fingers trailed over the fine lace. "This set is a gift. But going forward you must ensure that your work attire is always completely sophisticated." Then giving he box back to her he concluded. "Thank you, Rachel. You can go home now. I am glad we overcame that little misunderstanding without too much trouble. I don't expect we will have a repeat, will we?"

And like that he dismissed her. Confused, she rearranged her skirt and hurried out of the office. She was sure that he was about to molest her, and given the feelings between her legs, she was not sure she would have resisted. But no, she thought, he obviously has self-control and maybe this was actually all about her dress code.

She contemplated not returning the next day but persuaded herself that everything was going to be fine. He just had a strange way of running his office. It did not stop her from having saucy thoughts that night about what he might have done, particularly when she looked at the luxurious lingerie that he had given her.

After showering the next morning, Rachel only hesitated for a minute before sliding the black thong and stockings up her legs, followed by the lacy black bra. Once fully dressed, she felt elegant in her whole attire, and a little bit sexy. It felt sensual to be wearing this underwear purely for herself, although the lacy bra was lightly discernible through her blouse and when she bent over the tops of her stockings peaked below her rising skirt. The feeling carried her through the whole day. She was somewhat surprised when Roger never even enquired about whether she had followed his instructions.

Going to La Perla that evening, to ensure her lingerie wardrobe met the standard he had set, got her so excited she was quite flushed by the time she got home. Nothing more was said about her dress code for the next few days, until she began to forget the humiliation of that first day. She just got on with her job, following each and every instruction faultlessly.

The following Monday, she needed to get some documents signed and came around the desk on his left, in order to put them in front of Roger. As she was explaining to him what they were, he asked her to hold them down flat for him to read and sign. Leaning over slightly, she placed both hands flat on the desk in front of him. As he was signing the second page, she felt his hand begin to slide up the back of her leg. She flinched forward and away from his hand, lifting her right hand off the document.

"Stay still and keep both your hands on the paper, Rachel!" he growled with such intensity she froze. Returning her hand to hold the document down, he continued signing as if nothing has happened. When she turned to the next page, his hand returned. It took all of her willpower not to jump again, as he gently caressed the back of her stockinged thigh.

When she turned another page, he continued to sign, but his hand went higher up under her skirt. "Did you buy appropriate lingerie? And are you wearing is, as I instructed?" he enquire, out of the blue. Trembling, Rachel responded that she had. By now his hand was caressing her inner thigh, inches from her flimsy thong. He patted his hand between her thighs, as an obvious instruction for her to spread her legs wider to give him better access. She did not move . . . She wondered whether to run. She was terrified that things were now going to get out of hand.

She recalled with horror another time when insistent hands were groping around under her dress in her boyfriend's lounge. That evening had not gone well, leading to her running out of the house in tears.

"Rachel?" he warned. She was thrust back into the present, knowing he was both instructing her to turn the page and shift her feet apart. Remembering his previous threat to her job, she submitted to his demands. His one hand signed, while the other pressed against the thin material of her thong. At that point she gave up fighting, knowing that she was trapped. Unconsciously, her body responded with arousal as his finger began to rub gently along her slit.

By now he had finished signing, but she dared not move her hands. Again, unexpectedly he asked "I understand that Jane also stole your old boyfriend. And that is the man she intends to marry?"

How did he know that? It had happened two years before, during her first year of university. She had loved Rupert and thought she was destined to be with him. Until one day she walked in on him and Jane in her bed. That was the moment of her greatest betrayal and humiliation. And on top of that, Jane had recently asked her to be a bridesmaid at her wedding to Rachel's ex-boyfriend. How could a supposedly good friend be so unaware and so callous?

The emotion flooded through her and she could hardly think straight. She fell forward onto her elbows on the desk, providing Roger with even better access to her sex. She just nodded in response, being too overwhelmed to talk.

Roger continued to tease, but now started massaging her clit with his forefinger, while rubbing his thumb insistently between her pussy lips. "What if I told you that you could soon have revenge on Jane? If you carry on doing what you are doing for me, I can ensure that Jane's fortunes decline."

In her weakened state, she did not consider the manipulation, but rather grabbed onto the slim hope that she could triumph over Jane, at least once.

"Is that really possible?"

"Yes, my dear." He said as he drove his thumb into her quivering quim, while urgently kneading her needy clit. He intentionally wiggled his thumb to excite that sensitive rough spot on the inner wall of her vagina, as he thrust his thumb in and out of her sopping cunt.

"Obey me, and you will have everything you deserve." And with that she dissolved into an intense trembling orgasm.

Roger did not stop. He just pulled back her clitoral hood and flicked at the swollen little nub. After climaxing like that, it was so very sensitive. She didn't want him to carry on. The sensory pleasure was mixed with an intensity that was almost painful.

"Please stop it's too sensitive." She tried to stand up, but he just pushed her back down. He continued strumming on her hypersensitive clit, rolling his chair behind her. He pulled her thong down to mid-thigh and penetrated her vagina with two fingers. Knowingly, he ensured that with every thrust, his fingers curled and brushed her sensitive g-spot. Lying over his desk in a swirling sea of sensations and emotions, she submitted to his command and her humiliation. All she could manage was a soft "Nnn.. Nnn.. Nnn!" every time he penetrated her, not even being able to complete the word 'No!'.

Now on every fifth stroke of his right hand into her leaking hole, he pinched the little nub with his left thumb nail. Pleasure and pain were wrapped up together, with her climbing higher and higher towards release. And then she exploded again, juices flowing out and down her leg. Her mind went blank as she experienced the small death of another massive orgasm.

She only regained her consciousness when she felt something large, hard and warm plunge into her depths. She looked over her shoulder to see him smiling arrogantly down at her as he repeatedly thrust into her. He had not intended to fuck her tonight, but rather groom her over the next week. But her pussy had felt and looked so alluring that he just had to have her. So being the predator he was, he did just that.

Again, she tried to push upwards, but he grabbed her hair and used it to both keep her in place and to pull her back onto his rock-hard organ. His other hand was possessively holding her hip, in order to ensure she rocked her body for his pleasure.

"No, Mr Jenkins. I don't want you to do this." She panted, futilely trying to push upwards. But all she managed was to squirm around and excite him further. Despite her denials, her treacherous loins were on fire. All of the emotions and previous stimulation had left her on a high plateau of arousal that she could not control.

"Rachel, your pussy tells me otherwise. I know you. You are a slut. You want to be used. Surrendering makes you hot. It's how your mind and body overcome your insecurity. Let go." She didn't want to accept it, but his words drove her over the edge again. Surely this was rape. But how could her body betray her like this? Was it abuse or had she actually been asking for this?