Replacements

Welcome to my newest story.  This is going to be something of an experiment for me, as I'm going to write this as it needs to be written every week, and not work it as I would my other projects.  It'll be interesting, if nothing else.

That said, this is always a first draft, and if I missed something in editing, don't beat me up too bad.  Remember:  you get what you pay for.

Replacements

Part Six

The weeks became a month, then two.  Martha and I remained living apart, but we saw each other often--far more often than I imagined her relationship with Olivia had permitted before my intervention.

There remained the dynamic of the mistress and the submissive, but it was changing, every so slightly.  Martha still loved serving and pleasing me, but she seemed to be growing more accustomed to my doing the same to her.  Even if I had, from time to time, order her to enjoy her own pleasure.

My biggest surprises were how readily I fell into the dual roles of mistress and lover.  For something that, at first, seemed so alien to me, I not only accepted them, but flourished at both duties.  Even better--I enjoyed loving Martha, as well as dominating her.

One night, after we returned from a quite dinner together--something that Martha had never done with the old Olivia, so she was both surprised and delirious with joy--I decided to try something.  I headed to the sofa and sat while Martha was closing the door.  I looked at her as I crossed my legs.  "Love," I said in a soft, calm tone, "come over here and polish my boots with your cunt."  I don't know why I did this, or why I said what I said.  Was I looking for a reaction from Martha?  Or . . . did I wonder how I'd react to this demand?

I soon found out.  Martha said nothing as she began disrobing.  Her clothes, her stockings, her undergarments--all of it removed, folded, and placed with care on a nearby chair.  Then, still without a word, she came to me and knelt.  She positioned herself perfectly as she took my booted foot and placed it between her legs--

Our eyes never left each other as she rubbed herself against the soft leather.  She brought herself pleasure in obeying me, in doing something that pleased me greatly--which it did.  As for me . . . something burned inside, something I'd never felt before that moment.  She's going it, I thought, feeling both pride and love at the same time as I watched Martha move her hips slowly as she pushed herself into my boot.

It was that special moment in time, as we both orgasmed within seconds of each other, that our bond became permanence   I knew, no matter what happened from then on, Martha would always be in my life, and I in hers.

Such was my total attraction to Martha that I forgot why I'd become Olivia--right until the very moment he stepped into my office . . .

After becoming Olivia I'd seen little of Craig.  My understanding had been that he'd gone to one of our other locations to oversee something; I wasn't very certain, mainly because I was far too busy with getting my own life straight to worry about someone else.  But the moment he entered my office, everything I'd felt about him, everything that had led me to take another woman's life, came flooding back.

"How are you doing, Olivia?" he asked.  He shut the office door and leaned against the frame.

I was lost in my thoughts, so I wasn't registering anything beyond us in my office together.  I leaned back in my chair and smiled.  "I've been doing well, Craig.  I understand you were away at another location."

His smile was subdued, almost sublime.  "Yeah, there was a mess that needed some cleaning up."  He stepped away from the frame, moving slowly towards my desk.  "I thought you were going to call me while I was on the road."

Another oops in a short lists of issues with becoming Olivia.  It's not like she had it on her calendar, I thought.  "Sorry."  I softened my tone, trying to sound sympathetic.  "I've had a lot going on of late."

Craig smirked.  "You didn't even have a couple of free hours to call and talk dirty?"  He slowly shook his head. "You've been a bad girl, Liv."

There was something in his voice when he spoke those last words--something I didn't care for in the least.  Living the last two months as Martha's mistress and lover had given me some insight into the dom/sub dichotomy, and I caught the vibe Craig was giving:  he was showing dominance over me.

Was this the basis of their relationship?  Olivia played mistress to Martha at home, and submissive to Craig at work?  Jesus, how was I to do that?  While I had wanted to be with Craig--oh, how I'd wanted that--the way he spoke, his body language . . . the way he was walking around to my side of my desk . . . he was intent on stepping into my space, and I'd been of a dominating sort of mind for a while . . .

I stood--almost sprung--from my chair and established my boundaries.  "In case you haven't heard," I said coldly, "I've had to deal with one of my staff trying to kill herself."  I set my hands upon my hips.  "I've not had an easy time around here."

It was as if Craig wasn't listening to the tone of my voice, or picking up on my body language.  He moved to within a few inches of me, then stopped when we were literally nose-to-nose.  Though he was tall, in my heels I was just as tall, so his opportunity to intimidate me with his height was out of the question.

"That silly bitch tried to off herself a couple of months ago," he growled softly.  "What else is keeping you so busy you can't help me jack off over the phone?"  His eyes narrowed slightly.  "Playing dominatrix again, are we?"

Now it was my time to smirk.  "Who said anything about playing?"

"You were never good at it."

"How would you know, Craig?"  I crossed my arms.  "You ever give it a try?"

Perhaps it was the way I phrased the question, or the tone of my voice, or . . . who knows?  I don't.  But a light that had been in Craig's eyes up to that point--something that said, "I'm being playful with you, Olivia"--it vanished.  In its place was something else:  something cold, something . . . dangerous?  If he's a dom, and he feels you're trying to dom him, I thought, then he's not going to be happy.

But I wasn't seeing "Not happy" in his eyes.  No, I was seeing something along the lines of, "I'm going to smack you, bitch".  I was seeing, "I should knock the shit out of you."

Craig stepped into me, his body hard against me.  He was trying to push me into my chair, to knock me back and down, to exert his control over me.  I wasn't having it:  I staggered one step backwards, but remained on my feet.

There was cold flame in his eyes.  "You're pissing me off, Liv."

I knew my own eyes were shining like black ice.  "You only have yourself to blame."

"Get on your fucking knees."

I heard it then.  I knew we'd gone beyond playing dominate and submissive.  Craig was pissed, and he wanted to take it out on someone--and he wanted to take it out on me in a particular way that I was never going to allow.  "Fuck you."

"What did you say?"  His tone wasn't so much angry now as it was menacing.

My stomach was beginning to flip-flop as I understood where this could lead.  "I said fuck you, Craig."  My right eyebrow shot up.  "Do you need to me explain?"

"You never speak to me that way!"

"I'll speak to you however I like.  And whatever dom act you're trying to lay on me . . ."  I smiled bravely.  "It's not working; it never did."

That wasn't what he wanted to hear.  My eyesight was working at preternatural levels now, and I noticed the slight movement of his body, of his arms--of his hands.  "Fucking bi--"

"You touch me," I said in a whisper, "and they're going to hear my scream in the neighboring state."

"They'll just think you're enjoying it."

"You willing to risk that?"

It gave him a momentary pause, wondering if I would scream were he to lay his hand upon me.  "You remember that time you leaned over you desk," he whispered back, his head turning towards my right ear, "and let me fuck you up the ass?"  He chuckled.  "You were moaning so much I had to stuff your panties in your mouth."  His lips inched towards my face.  "Don't you remember how you so enjoyed being my slut?"

I took a long, slow breath, then let it out as an exasperated sigh.  "Can't say I do," I said, my lips curling in disgust.  "And with that, get the fuck out of my office."

For a moment I thought he was going to grab me, and I was ready to take action:  to scream, to bite, to do anything to fend him off.  "I'll leave when I'm ready."

"You better reassess your position."  I cast my eyes downward for only a second before I returned my gaze to his.  "Leave, or you're going to find your balls in the back of your throat in thirty seconds."

"You won't."

I picked up my mobile and held it next to my face.  "You want me to call the EMTs?  Or would you like to make the call?"

When he realized I wasn't backing down Craig stepped back a few feet, then made his way towards the door, sidestepping the whole way, while keeping his eyes locked upon me.  "You win this round, Liv--"

"It's O-liv-i-a," I said slowly, enunciating each syllable.  "Don't ever come in here again, you douchebag, unless it had to do with business."  I nodded towards the door.  "And any time we're in a close room alone, I'll scream, just to fuck you."  I stepped from behind the desk.  "You understand?"

Craig said nothing until his hand rested upon the doorknob.  "You're giving orders now," he said softly, that hint of menace still in his voice.  "But I can wait.  And when the time comes . . ."  He shook his head.  "You're going to wish you'd gotten on your knees."

I'd had enough.  "Get out."

"You won't see it coming," he whispered, the opened the door and slipped out, closing it behind him.

It wasn't until I was once more sitting that the shakes hit me.  I couldn't stop; I felt all the fear I'd held within trying to escape, and I couldn't hold it inside.  Tears began running down my face as I realized just how--crazy Craig had been.  How much he wanted to harm me, to violate me--

How much he wanted to debase and destroy me.

I did nothing for the rest of the day.  I couldn't forget his last words, and my mind conjured images of him watching me, stalking me, taking me, raping and beating me.  I tried to push them away, but like my fear, they wouldn't stay contained.  They kept at me, over and over and over . . .

By the time I readied myself to go home, I knew I had to do something.  I had to remove Craig from my life.

I knew what I had to do.

And I knew how it should be done.

Read Part Seven Here

Read Part Five Again



Things sounds serious.  Well, with two weeks to go, what did you expect?
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