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From: Night Writer <night_writer99@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Surrendering Sarah {Night Writer}  (nc, wife) [11/?]
Date: Sun, 25 Feb 2001 16:10:02 -0500
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                                 Surrendering Sarah

                                  by Night Writer

                                     Chapter 11



It was sooo weird, like she was looking through a tunnel. And it was 
taking way too long. She hadn't been that far from work but she always 
seemed turned in the wrong direction. She tried to walk faster but her 
six-inch heels made that really hard. People were staring at her, just 
openly staring. God, she must be like so dirty and everything. What had 
happened to her? Was she in an accident? Sarah paused to study her 
reflection in a store window. She was having trouble remembering where 
she had been. If she hadn't been able to see her office building, she 
wouldn't know exactly where she was. Her clothes were filthy, her skirt 
split up the rear to the waist. Big holes had been torn in her 
stockings. Thick globs of cum still splattered her face and ran 
sluggishly down over her breasts. Oh God, how had she ever gotten this 
way? Something nagged at her, something she didn't want to think about. 
She had a big meeting today. Sarah looked at her broken watch. It said 
she was two hours late. That's just crazy; she'd never be late for a 
big meeting like that. After all, she was wearing her best suit. 'I 
can't go to the meeting looking like this. I'll sneak in through the 
delivery entrance and clean up first. They'll never see me and I'll 
look as good as new.'

She made her way across the parking lot. Hiding behind vans and larger 
cars, she slipped in unnoticed. No one was on duty at the delivery 
door. Swiping her pass card, she slipped in and quickly used the rear 
fire escape to get to her office. Where was Stacy? She could help! 'I 
don't know what to do. I can't wear these clothes.' Sarah pawed 
aimlessly through the pile of brightly colored spandex, hoping to find 
something suitable. Suddenly, she brightened and began to pluck bits 
and pieces from the pile.

Stacey was worried; perhaps, she had pushed too hard. After work 
yesterday, it had seemed such a cool idea to stop and talk with the 
construction guys across the street. All she had wanted to do was see 
how Sarah was going over, how her lunchtime shows were being received. 
Instead, she found out how angry they were, how much they wanted to put 
"Barbie" (she couldn't believe they called her that too) in her place. 
Stacey suggested that they show her what a good time really was. She 
wanted it anyway. Show her what they had. Stacey suspected something 
had gone wrong, very wrong. Sarah should have been back more than an 
hour ago. The meeting room had called three times to find out why she 
wasn't there. The briefing book with handouts was on the table. There 
just was no Sarah to go. Stacey looked out the window. Where could she 
be? Did she finally go to the police? Stacey hurried down the hallway. 
Passing Sarah's office, something caught her eye. She stopped and went 
in. As quickly as she could, she turned and quietly closed the door.

"What do you think," a giggling Sarah asked. 'Oh my God, she's 
snapped.' On the floor, stained and tattered, the business suit lay 
balled-up and crumpled. Sarah was posing, hands on hips. She had found 
the suit Stacey had brought to work, a suit tailored to humiliate her 
after the meeting. Pink of course, with a little satin jacket over a 
mid-calf, spandex tube skirt. Patterned white stockings, platform 
ankled boots with seven-inch heels, a see-through white lace blouse 
with huge ruffles at wrist and neck, made worse by too much make-up, 
perfume, and jewelry. 

"Aren't I like the most totally fantastic Barbie in the whole world?"

She was out of her mind, Stacey thought. They raped her. She could see 
smears of dirt and traces of what had to be cum in Sarah's hair. 
Standing back a moment, thinking it through, she saw what had happened. 
After the attack, when her suit was ruined and she realized she 
couldn't make the meeting, she, Sarah, couldn't take it, so Barbie had 
taken over. Barbie would go to the meeting and everyone would like her 
and Sarah wouldn't be a failure. It was madness, but Stacey couldn't 
see any other explanation.

She made a couple of exchanges in Barbie's briefing folder and sent her 
on her way. Frantically, she scampered for the telephone and started to 
make calls. Oblivious to Stacey's growing panic, giggling Barbie left 
and made her way to the meeting, hips swinging in the high heels, 
mincing in her skin-tight skirt. Along the way, the secretaries stopped 
and stared. 'Screw them. They're just jealous. They wish they looked as 
hot as I do.' Sticking her tongue out at one mean, shriveled-up old 
bitch, Barbie took a lollipop from her candy jar and put it in her 
mouth. It tasted so good; she had no idea that she liked lollipops so 
much. The door to the meeting room was open so she just walked in, 
twirling her lolly, sucking away, hollowing her cheeks as she did.

Everyone stopped talking when she walked in. It was sooo cool. They 
must be totally turned on by how great she looked. Some of the other 
women from the office were there but they were just some stupid little 
jealous bitches, and screw them too. All of the guys were just staring 
at her, even the old farts. Stu was turning red; he was so cute. It was 
like totally a shame that he was married. Maybe, with just a little 
more time alone with him, she could get him to do her anyway. She had 
to be lots better looking than whatever hag he was married to.

Hank was reviewing sales numbers for Region 2. That was boring, she 
decided. The presentation was for the Japanese affiliates. Now, they 
looked like lots of fun. They were smiling and nodding. They wanted to 
see her, to meet her, to listen to her presentation that was going to 
be sooo radically better than Hopeless Hank's droning drivel.

Mr. Burgess was old but he was cute too, in a "daddy dear" sort of way.
He sat at the far end of the table, folded hands resting on his copy of 
Hank's report. They were large, strong hands for a man his age, much 
like her memory of her father's when she was very young. She stared at 
them, until they became her daddy's hands. She recognized the same 
thick fingers and wide palms - powerful hands that carved a miniature 
zoo of her favorite animals from shapeless scraps of oak with the 
small, red-handled pocket-knife - warm, comforting hands that made her 
feel safe and protected when she was sick, or when a nightmare sent her 
padding down the hall to his bedside in the middle of the night. No 
one's hands had ever touched her in the same way, and for the first 
time she knew that empty space for what it was.

But now he was scowling, like her father used to do after she had her 
first period and her tits began to grow. Then, it was always the same: 
never have any fun, curfews and chaperones at the dances, all day at 
church, getting those droning lectures about how she had to meet a 
higher standard. He was a minister and with her mother dead, people 
were watching. Sarah had to work harder, stand taller, be better, 
someone to look up to, not a girlie for the boys to ogle. 'Boring old 
Sarah. I don't want to be her. I want to have fun. Oooh, those Japanese 
men want to have fun too.'

Barbie pranced over to them, her big breasts bouncing, all smiles and 
flirty eyes. One of them had his hand on her ass. She wiggled to give 
him a better feel. They were saying things she didn't understand. It 
was in like Japanese and she didn't speak that. So what, it didn't 
matter. They definitely liked her a lot. And they'd love her 
presentation ... 'oh my god, I have to do the presentation.'

She opened her folder and began to offer handouts. They were snatching 
them from her. Barbie never got to even see them. She should have 
brought lots more. She never knew she was so popular. Mr. Burgess was 
whispering furiously to someone. What was he so mad about? Barbie made 
her way to the end of the table and started.

"Hi," she burbled gaily, "my name is Barbie." Suddenly, Burgess was on 
his feet. So were Hank and Stu and all the other guys and even the 
women, applauding. They were cheering and laughing and applauding. 
Then, the Japanese were doing the same thing. Everyone was applauding 
and laughing. She didn't know why but she was laughing and applauding 
too. Which made the women laugh even more. Two of them came up to her 
and suggested she go outside for pictures. Okay, that sounded like fun. 
They told her to wave goodbye, it would be so rude if she didn't, so 
she did and everyone waved back, especially those nice Japanese men. 
She liked them. When they got outside, Burgess came out, his face red 
with rage.

"Sarah, you're fired. I've never been so disappointed in anyone. I 
don't know what's happened to you. You used to be someone I could look 
up to for the future, but now ..." 

Sarah had trouble focusing. What had he said, she was fired? 

"Now get her out of here."

'Look up to me? More like look up my skirt.' That's what they all
really wanted, what those guys across the street wanted. They wanted
to watch her show off and then do things to her, nasty things, and
they felt so good. The women grabbed her. Get your hands off me, she
wanted to say, but only a long nasal whine came out. Roughly, they
dragged her to the front door. When she tried to resist, some of
the secretaries helped. Where was Stacey? She'd explain, she'd help
Sarah ... Barbie, she wouldn't let them fire her.

"So Hank, what do we do?"

Hank's stock had suddenly risen with his suggestion that they trick the 
Japanese into thinking that Sarah had been a model done up like Barbie 
as a gag. The problem was there were still the Region 3 numbers to 
present.

"I'm not sure, Mr. Burgess, but let me try something."

Spotting Stacey starting to follow Sarah towards the front door, he 
called her back. Hesitating at first, she finally came to where Hank 
and Burgess were in conference.

"Stacey, how well do you know the Region 3 numbers," Hank asked. "Very 
well, I put them together," she replied.

"If the company paid, do you think you could find a sharp business suit 
and make the presentation right after lunch?"

Stacey swallowed. She wanted to say "yes," and Mistress Shayla should 
be willing to let her. "Okay," she nodded, "but with one condition; I 
need to make sure that Sarah gets home safe. I called someone to pick 
her up." Both men nodded and then Burgess came close.

"Stacey, this is very big. Come through for us, you get Sarah's job."

This wasn't hard. Take her husband, take her job, take her life... 
Stacey assured Burgess she could handle it. Time to ship Barbie off to 
camp.

Barbie was in the lobby, crying and struggling. She wasn't going to go, 
Stacey was coming for her. Stacey stepped in and took Sarah under the 
arm. Forcefully, she steered the sobbing woman to the door.

"Where are we going, Stacey?" Sarah begged. Stacey ignored her until 
they were in the parking lot. A dark van was pulling in at the opposite 
end.

"I'm going back to do your presentation, Barbie," she taunted. "They 
all thought you were too stupid to do it. After all, look at what you 
were handing out." Sarah looked at the paper that Stacey handed her. It 
was the handout from her presentation, the one with the graphics on 
revenue growth. But it was different. On this one, the rising slope for 
1st quarter revenue was her bustline and the fourth quarter was her 
tight rear. It was even called the "Barbie Barometer". No wonder they 
all were laughing at her. The van was parked, the side door opened and 
Stacey pushed her in.

"You're too dumb, too ugly to deserve a good job. You're just 
Cockteasing Barbie, not a Cockpleasing Barbie, a BigCockPleasing Barbie 
at that. You're just Loser Barbie."

Sarah froze, not able to grasp Stacey's sudden turn against her. Then 
without warning, the fragile thread severed that connected Barbie to 
the only remaining life she had, Sarah lashed out at Stacey, arms 
flailing wildly in a desperate fit of rage.

"You bitch! You fucking bitch! I thought you were my friend! I'll kill 
you, you little cunt! I'll - "

Just as Sarah readied herself to leap from the open door, her long, 
pink nails poised to tear into Stacey's smirking face, she lurched 
backwards into the van. Shayla crouched behind her, her strong fingers 
buried in Sarah's hair. When Sarah struggled harder, Shayla gave her 
head a vicious yank, arching her neck painfully until she went limp, 
still panting and hissing through clenched teeth.

Stacey slammed the door shut, and turned away. Sarah could hear her 
laughing. They all were laughing at her; everyone was.

Shayla's amused smile appeared over Sarah's upturned face. Her full red 
lips parted slightly, guiding a hot, sweet column of breath over 
Sarah's heavily made-up features. Sarah fought the pain, moaning with 
disgust while Shayla toyed with her.

"Now, my little slice of fuck-meat. Want to tell me what's wrong?"

"My job! That little bitch made me lose my job! My career, my life, 
it's ruined! Everything I've worked for, everything I've earned, is 
gone! I'll get her! I'll get all of you! Fuck you, fuck you all! 

Shayla let her shattered victim babble on as she skillfully slipped the 
fine needle beneath the tender skin at the side of her neck. Sarah felt 
the wasp-like bite, followed by the numbness that began in her fingers
and toes and spread across her belly and chest. As darkness engulfed her 
from all sides, a final shudder racked her body. Something told her 
that things were going to get very much worse than they ever had been.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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