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Ctrl Alt Defeat: A Secretary's Takeover 14
🕑 Added 2024-10-10 18:28:19 +0000 UTCChapter 14: The Hand That Leads
At seven-thirty, as the city lights shimmered against the evening sky, a taxi pulled up to the curb outside a towering glass building. On the thirteenth-floor an overpriced cocktail bar awaited, promising a night of business chat and casual flirting. In the cab's backseat, two feminine figures sat in tense silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between them.
Mr Wright shifted uncomfortably in his seat, rearranging his legs and hearing the loud swish of his nylon-clad thighs rubbing together. "I don't feel comfortable dressed like this," he muttered, barely above a whisper. "I want to go back to the apartment," he added, feeling the weight of his hoop earrings and the tightness of the garments crushing his body into its current ultra-feminine form.
Mia glanced at him coolly. "Your comfort isn't my priority," she replied sharply. "We're here for the company. Now, get out of the cab."
The feminized man folded his arms and glared at his former assistant. "And if I don't?" he challenged, arching a meticulously sculpted eyebrow.
Mia sighed in exasperation as she reached into her purse, pulling out two crisp twenty-pound notes. She handed them to the taxi driver. "Take this gentleman wherever he wants to go," she said firmly. "And if he can't decide, just drop him at the train station."
The word "gentleman" hung in the air. Morgan Wright's eyes widened in shock, his head whipping around to meet the driver’s equally stunned gaze in the rearview mirror. A flush of embarrassment heated his cheeks, and he quickly looked away. Meanwhile, Mia stepped out of the cab, slamming the door behind her.
For a moment, Mr Wright sat frozen as the reality of the situation sank in. The prospect of being left alone, dressed as he was, suddenly felt far more daunting than anything waiting inside the building. Swallowing his pride, he fumbled with the door handle, his inch-long nails momentarily hindering his escape.
Stepping out into traffic, he narrowly avoided an oncoming car, stumbling and nearly twisting his ankle. Regaining his composure, he drew his coat tightly around himself and wobbled on his towering heels to catch up with Mia. "You truly are a heartless person," he snarled, his words dripping with venom. "Was that truly necessary?"
Mia turned to face him, a satisfied smirk curling on her lips. "Necessary or not," she replied coldly, "I’ve told you before. I’m done arguing with you or indulging your little tantrums. You do as you're told. Are we clear?"
Mr Wright momentarily held her gaze, defiance flickering in his eyes, until the chill of the wind biting at his pantyhosed legs, the flutter of his long hair against his Botox-stiffened face, and the ache in his arched feet brought him back to reality. His frustration gave way to resignation as he looked away.
"Are we clear?" Mia repeated, her tone unyielding.
"Yes, we're clear," Mr Wright muttered quietly, his shoulders slumping in defeat.
"Good. Then let’s go." Without another word, Mia turned and strode toward the building entrance, leaving Mr Wright to totter along behind her.
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Mia strode into the dimly lit bar, her heels clicking crisply against the polished marble floor as she led the way. Soft jazz music drifted through the air, wrapping the space in a mellow, sophisticated ambience. With each step, she radiated authority, the sway of her tailored coat moving in rhythm with her purposeful strides. Mr Wright minced behind her, struggling to match her brisk pace on his tendon-stretching heels. His hips swayed far more than he intended, the pressure on his slightly bent knees forcing him to walk with small, careful steps. Together, they created a striking image - Mia, the powerful, self-assured businesswoman, and her feminized companion, every inch the caricature of a tarty secretary.
They were greeted at the entrance by a sharply dressed host, who smiled politely. “Good evening, ladies. How can I help you this evening?”
Mia met his eyes, her gaze steady. “We’re meeting the Hortons. Have they arrived yet?" she replied with an air of confidence.
The host nodded and gestured toward the nearby coat check. “Yes, ma’am. If you’d kindly leave your coats here, I’ll escort you over.”
Mia slipped out of her coat effortlessly, revealing a sleek, stylish dress that hugged her figure perfectly. She handed it to the host, who carefully draped it over his arm before turning to Mr Wright, who was clutching the lapels of his coat protectively.
“Ma’am... your coat?” the host prompted, a look of confusion on his face.
With a reluctant sigh, Mr Wright loosened his grip and slipped out of his coat, handing it over. As he did, a chill ran over his bare arms, and he became acutely aware of how exposed he suddenly was.
The top half of his dress was bustier-style, crafted from sequined white fabric with a glittering gold band. The skimpy number - forcing his silicon chest up - created a deep, eye-catching cleavage that spilt over the top of the dress. From the hips down, the dress transitioned into a form-fitting black skirt that hugged his rounded thighs and ended far too high for his liking, leaving almost the entirety of his legs on display.
For a brief moment, he stood frozen in fear, cheeks flushing as he imagined what the host must be thinking of his daring outfit. Time seemed to stop, his heart pounding in his chest, while he shifted uncomfortably, long-nailed fingers twitching at his sides.
(See image 27)
“Mia!” The sharp, irritated voice cut through his haze, snapping him back to reality. He looked up to see the real Mia waiting impatiently by the host. Quickly, he scurried over, his stilettos clacking against the floor as moved forward to stand beside her. Imagining all eyes lingering on his feminized frame, he kept his gaze firmly downward. His vision - half obscured by thick, fluttering lashes - was otherwise filled with plump, pink lips jutting out above rounded mounds of fleshy-looking silicone.
After a brief, heart-thumping pause, the host nodded and gestured for them to follow. “Right this way,” he said calmly, leading them through the bustling bar floor and toward the exclusive lounge at the rear.
As they approached the table, both Horton brothers rose with welcoming smiles. Graham moved forward to greet Mia, leaning in to kiss her cheek, his hand lightly resting on her arm. “Stunning, as always,” he said warmly.
Mia gave a gracious nod. “Thank you, Graham,” she replied, flashing a confident smile. "You're looking handsome as always."
At the very same time, Grant stepped in front of Mr Wright, a playful glint in his eye. Towering over the smaller man, he placed a firm hand on the small of his back and leaned in to plant a tender kiss on his cheek. The gentle yet assertive gesture made the crossdressed man’s breath hitch, the touch of another man's lips on his skin igniting a surge of revulsion within him. He felt Grant's hand linger momentarily, a warmth radiating through the thin fabric of his short dress. Flustered, he pulled back, his expression filled with unease.
Graham cleared his throat. “Morgan, I’m afraid duty calls,” he began, looking somewhat apologetic. “The office has pulled me back in for a bit – an issue with some files, unfortunately. But if you’d like to accompany me, I’ve got a bottle of Glenlivet Winchester that we can enjoy while we discuss the progress of our merger.”
“You’re leaving?” Mr Wright blurted out, the panic evident in his cracking voice as he glanced nervously between Mia and Grant.
Before Mia could respond, Grant interjected with a reassuring smile. “No need to worry, Mia,” he said smoothly, placing a hand on Mr Wright’s shoulder. “I’ll keep you company. Besides, we have a lot to discuss before you officially step into his new role.”
Mia turned back to Graham, a sly smile on her lips. “That sounds perfect,” she replied, before averting her gaze towards her former boss. “You get yourself acquainted with your new boss, Mia,” she said with a wink. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
Mr Wright’s bloated lips parted, his eyes pleading. “But…” he started, desperation creeping into his voice. Mia held up a hand, cutting him off. “I know, I know,” she said, feigning sympathy. “You’re worried you’ll be asked a question you won’t know the answers to. But you’re a capable young woman now, remember? You’ll muddle through.” Her words dripped with irony, and her satisfied smile left him fuming.
As she turned to leave with Graham, Mr Wright watched in dismay, his nerves heightening when he felt Grant’s hand slide from his shoulder to the small of his back once more. Grant leaned in close, his tone intimate. “Shall we?” he murmured, guiding Mr Wright toward the seat his brother had just vacated. The feeling of vulnerability was unsettling, but he forced himself to sit, crossing his legs daintily out of habit, suddenly painfully aware of how his tiny skirt rode up, almost exposing his thong beneath.
Grant settled down opposite, his piercing gaze locking onto Mr Wright’s. “So, what’ll you have to drink?” he asked, his tone casual yet carrying a weight that made Mr Wright shift in his seat.
Mr Wright blinked, still dazed. “Uh… anything,” he replied nervously. “Whatever you’re having.”
Grant chuckled, his laughter deep and intimidating, as he waved over a server. “I’ll have a Negroni,” he said, then shot a grin at Mr Wright. “And a Cosmo for the lady.”
The former businessman's cheeks flushed as he realized what had been ordered for him, anger flickering in his eyes. “A Cosmo?” he questioned. But Grant only smirked.
“Somehow, I don’t picture you as the type of girl who drinks Negronis,” Grant replied with a chuckle.
Mr Wright stiffened, a flash of irritation breaking through his discomfort. “And how do you know what type of girl I am?” he shot back, a touch of unintended sass in his voice.
Grant’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Oh, I think I’m beginning to get a sense of it,” he replied smoothly, his tone laced with mischief.
The drinks arrived swiftly, and Grant wasted no time, lifting his glass. “To new beginnings,” he said, his gaze lingering shamelessly on Mr Wright’s chest before travelling up to meet his eyes. Knowing he had no choice but to go along with the charade, Mr Wright picked up his girlie pink cocktail, clinking it reluctantly against Grant’s sturdy tumbler. Taking a hesitant sip, he grimaced, unsure what was more appalling - the overly sweet, sickly taste or the bright pink lip print glaring at him from the rim of the glass.
Grant leaned back in his chair, his demeanour casual yet calculating. "So, Mia," he began smoothly. “We’ll get you set up next to my desk on Monday. That way, you can observe and adjust to your new environment. After a few weeks, we’ll start brainstorming strategies to bring Stitch & Sovereign into the 21st century,” he added with a smirk, clearly entertained by the prospect.
"Weeks!" Mr Wright blurted out, barely containing his dismay. The thought of spending even a single day as Grant's secretary made his skin crawl. Never mind the notion of enduring weeks of fetching coffee and answering calls, all while trapped in this humiliating persona. It was almost too much to bear.
Grant’s expression softened, but there was a glimmer of something else in his eyes as he leaned in closer, edging his chair just a bit nearer. “Well, perhaps we can make things move a little quicker,” he purred, his voice dropping a notch, “if you’re a quick learner, that is.”
Before Mr Wright could reply, a large hand slid between his crossed legs, making him gasp. With a firm yet steady grip, Grant pried his legs apart, then slowly let his fingers trail along the curve of the nylon-clad knee.
Mr Wright’s breath caught in his throat, his instincts suddenly on high alert. Feeling Grant’s strong fingers tracing higher along his leg, he quickly placed his hand between his legs, holding the hem of his dress down to keep it from riding up any further.
Grant’s fingers continued their slow ascent, his gaze fixed intently on Mr Wright’s flushed face. “Are you a quick learner, Mia?” he asked in a low murmur, making his intentions unmistakably clear.
(See image 28)
Grant’s question hung in the air, heavy with implication, as Mr Wright struggled to maintain his composure. His heart raced, and his breathing quickened. With Grant’s hand resting possessively on his thigh, he forced himself to meet the man’s gaze, summoning every ounce of courage he had left.
Clearing his throat, he replied, “I… I’ve always been a quick study,” hoping his voice didn’t betray too much of the tremor he could feel coursing through him.
Grant’s lips curved into a knowing smile, his fingers stroking away as he leaned in even closer. “That’s what I like to hear,” he replied with a smile. “Adaptability is key, Mia. A secretary who can anticipate her boss’s needs is invaluable. Don’t you agree?”
Mr Wright swallowed hard, resisting the urge to flinch, knowing that causing a scene would only worsen his predicament. He took another steadying breath, mustering a tight smile. “Very. But it’s also important to create boundaries - ones that both parties are comfortable with,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
Grant’s fingers stopped moving, and a smirk played on his lips. “Agreed,” he said slowly, clearly enjoying the battle unfolding. “But boundaries are there to be tested. Sometimes, we don’t realize where they truly lie, especially when something important is on the line."
Mr Wright’s pulse quickened, but he held Grant’s gaze. “True. But let's not run before we can walk now.” Mr Wright replied, glancing at the man’s hand on his thigh.
Grant raised an eyebrow, a flash of amusement in his eyes as he slowly pulled his hand back. “Touché,” he chuckled, leaning back in his chair, finally allowing Mr Wright a moment to breathe. “It’s good to see you’ve got something about you, Mia. It's going to make our time together all the more entertaining.”
Mr Wright let out a barely perceptible sigh of relief, as he recrossed his feminine-looking legs and sat back. With a strained smile, he lifted his glass and took a long sip, trying to suppress the dread that twisted in his stomach. He knew this was only the beginning, and he steeled himself for what was to come.
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Apologies for the delay on this post! I really wanted to capture the emotion in these images, which took a bit more time than expected. however, now that it's finished, I'm really pleased with the result.
Comments
Nicegent42
loving this story and I'm wondering when "Mia" will have to see to her new bosses needs
FTJ
Love this!
