Theresa’s Transfer
by The Sympathetic Devil
Chapter 1
Theresa got plenty of attention as she walked through the hallways of the Pentagon, the personal items from her desk in a cardboard box. It was something she was used to. There weren’t a lot of civilian women working there and none of them looked like Theresa, with her long blonde hair and her Barbie doll body.
She didn’t necessarily like the lustful looks but she didn’t dress to discourage them. Her white blouse clung tightly to her full double D’s and the neckline showed a good hands-breadth of cleavage in which dangled a tear-drop moonstone bound in white gold. Her black skirt hugged hips and ass so shapely that they suggested a few variants in her mostly European ancestry. The skirt was so busy squeezing her backside that it completely forgot to go down anywhere near her knees. The majority of Theresa’s long and shapely legs were covered only by white nylons, their curves enhanced by black stiletto pumps. It was really inevitable that men would stare and she had resolved herself to it rather than sacrifice her favorite fashions. Still, compared to her weekend clothes, her current outfit was tame.
The jaw-dropping and eye-popping were more prominent today, since she had never been in this part of the building. She would probably spend the next couple of weeks disappointing another batch of hopeless hopefuls, but that wasn’t the cause of the perplexed frown on her strong but feminine face. Rather, it was that she had been transferred, just like that, with no warning or explanation to a division she had never heard of.
Her former supervisor didn’t know anything about it either, only that the order had come from high up. Hell, nobody could even tell her what her new position was! Had she been promoted? Demoted? Would her pay change?
The division head would explain, she was told. And who was the division head? Again, she got nothing. Nothing but a room number and an appointment time. So here she was, three stories underground in the newly formed Division of Special Projects.
The man at the desk in the antechamber was a young civilian who noticeably sat up straighter when she entered the room. The two guards standing at either side of the Division Head’s office door only allowed their eyes to betray their interest in her body, which they could always claim was a search for weapons. She would have had to have been very creative to smuggle anything inside that particular skirt, she thought with a smirk.
“I’m here to report to the division head,” she told the young man. “Theresa Torgasen.”
“Ms. Torgasen. Right on time,” he said. “Go right in.”
One of the guards opened the door for her. She put a neutral look on her face and went in.
The plush office was far from standard issue. The new boss obviously knew how to work the system. He was in a chair behind a large mahogany desk, but swiveled so that only an arm was visible.
“Theresa Torgasen reporting for duty,” she said.
The man turned to face her and gave her a huge grin. It was a grin she recognized.
“Hey there TT,” he said.
“Peter?” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s my office,” he said. “My Division.”
“No fucking way!” she said.
“Swear to God it’s true!” he said. “Have a seat! How have you been?”
She sat in the chair he had gestured to—the only one in the room. It was odd in that it actually seemed bigger than the one Peter sat in—high-backed and well-upholstered. Comfy too, she discovered.
“Clearly my life has been boring as hell compared to yours,” she observed. “How on earth did you wind up here? When you left our division, they were sending you off to do shit-work, weren’t they?”
“They were,” Peter concurred. “They had me going through a bunch of old files and boxes they found in a forgotten closet. And that’s how I wound up in my current position.”
“Huh?” asked Theresa.
“Well, there was all this old shit in their left over from the cold war,” he explained. “Have you ever heard of the Mata Hari project?”
“No,” she said.
“Well, you see, back during the cold war, the Department had a big problem by being infiltrated by female spies. Mostly Russian but a few Cubans, East Germans and Chinese as well. Too many high-ups couldn’t keep their dicks in their pants or their mouths shut once the former were out.”
Theresa chuckled. She had personal knowledge of just how susceptible men in the department to a pretty pair of tits and a nice ass.
“So, after a rather embarrassing incident with a former Secretary that was just barely kept out of the papers, one of the psy-ops folks proposed a research project to counter the barrage of commie babe-age. He called it the Mata Hari project and he claimed he could develop techniques and technology that could turn these ladies to our side. The way he had it figured, fighting the urges of the men in the Department would always be a loosing battle. But if we could influence the women in such a way that they would continue to service their targets, but out of love for the good-ole USA rather than in order to pump out information, our men would be much more likely to turn in their flirtatious foreign floosies. And once they had gotten it out of their system, we could even send the ladies back to spy for us! It was a brilliant plan, really.”
Theresa agreed it was a brilliant, all be it sexist, plan. And it was an interesting story. But somehow, she was having a hard time focusing on it. It just seemed so warm in the office suddenly. There was an odd buzzing in her head, and a more distracting buzzing lower down. She tried to focus on what Peter was saying as he told her about million dollar budgets, prostitutes brought in and paid to be research subjects, hints of impropriety and misuse of funds, investigations cut short, pay offs and blackmail, all fascinating stuff, but Theresa only half listened. Her mind was drifting, floating in a comfortable fog. Her body squirmed in the seat, less comfortable and it tingled and her panties dampened.
“...I believe he’s currently living under the name of Fink. He seems to be using the technology he developed in the private sector. Runs a company called ‘BimboTech Incorporated’ of all things.”
“BimboTech...” Theresa repeated and giggled, not sure what was funny.
“But once I found his notes and working models there in that closet, I knew I’d stumbled onto something that I could really take advantage of,” Peter continued, smiling at her. “And with some careful and clever maneuvering, I got myself placed as head of this division. And once I had this power, you were the first person I thought of. I knew that I wanted to have you work for me. To work under me. So now I’m your boss.”
Theresa nodded. That was true. He was her boss.
“You’re going to really like working under me, Theresa,” Peter continued to explain. “You’ll find it very, very satisfying. But it’s important that you do as I say. I’m your boss. You need to do what I tell you, right?”
“Yes...” Theresa agreed. “Do what you tell me. You’re the boss...”
It was true, of course. He was her boss. She needed to do as she was told. It seemed obvious, but he continued explaining it to her for a good five minutes. Maybe she needed it. She seemed to be having a hard time thinking. It was just so warm.
And she was horny. Distractingly so. She squirmed in her seat.
Something odd was going on. She was vaguely aware of that. But she couldn’t really focus on figuring out what it was. It wasn’t what Peter was saying. Everything he said was perfectly true. He was her boss. She liked working for him. She needed to do what he told her. She wanted to be a good employee. All perfectly reasonable, all undeniable. But something was odd. Maybe it was just that the room was so warm, her nipples so hard, her pussy so wet and tingly.
“So the first step is to get you dressed more appropriately for your new position,” Peter was saying.
Previous supervisors had spoken to her about how she dressed and she did try to keep it professional without being painfully dull. She wouldn’t have expected a complaint from Peter, though. She had always thought he appreciated how she dressed back when they had worked together. In fact, he had always seemed more than a little fond of ogling her.
“I’m not sure how I want you to dress your first day, though,” he continued. “So I figured that I’d have you try out three different outfits and see which is best.”
Theresa blinked. That was unexpected. She looked at Peter to see if he was joking. He was smiling, yes, but not in a joking way as he placed three boxes on the edge of his desk and a pair of gaudy shoes behind each. Theresa stared, confused.
“Come now, TT, this is part of your job. I’m your boss and you need to follow my orders. Try this one on first.”
That was enough to spur Theresa into action. She couldn’t think of what else to do and Peter seemed so confident, so decisive. She got out of her seat and went to the box he had indicated, the one matched with a red leather pair of knee-high boots with platform heels and heart-shaped cut outs going up each calf.
Inside the box was a negligee made mostly of red lace hearts strung together. She had never worn anything this daring to work before, of course, or anywhere outside her bedroom. She was very confused.
“Come on, TT,” said Peter. “You’re an important part of this project but I do have other things I have to do. We only have two more hours and we have a lot to accomplish. Hurry up and get out of your street clothes and put on your work clothes.”
A bit of encouragement was all she needed. This was part of her job. She had to do her job. It was so much easier to do what she was told than to try and think.
She undressed. It was an easy, automatic thing to do. Something she did every day. Not at work, not in front of Peter, but those were just details. She didn’t want to think about details. God she was horny!
She draped her blouse and skirt over the back of her chair. She reached back to unclasp her bra, releasing her ample bosom. Peter was breathing heavily and she looked up to see him smiling hungrily at her. She hesitated briefly, but he gestured at her to hurry up.
This was her job. This was her duty. She didn’t have to think about it. She didn’t want to think about it. The bra joined the blouse and skirt on the chair back and her nipples, already swollen from her arousal, became even harder in the suddenly cool air of the room.
It was a simple thing to remove her shoes, her stockings, her garters and panties. She released the clip that held her long blonde hair back and stood before her old friend and new boss quite naked.
She hardly had time and certainly had no will to consider that, however. Peter was urging her to try on her new work clothes. She took the red heart negligee and put it on. It was not as automatic for her as undressing had been. She had to think a bit about how to put it on and she trembled a bit, confused as to how this was part of her job, but with just a little urging from Peter, she pushed through her confusion and stretched the tight fitting mesh over her full breasts and worked the thong between her round, pale ass cheeks. The boots took almost no thought at all and soon she stood there in her work outfit, feeling very pleased with herself at having accomplished her assigned task.
“Very good, TT,” Peter praised, reinforcing her good feeling. “You are a very good employee. I can tell you’re going to like working under me.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
“But you must be terribly horny by now,” he observed. “Are you horny, TT?”
Theresa blushed. How had he known? Was it that obvious?
“Yes,” she confessed. He was her boss, after all. It was important to tell him the truth, to answer all his questions. “I’m really horny.”
“Well, that’s to be expected,” Peter said. “But I don’t want you to suffer needlessly. So your next assignment is to masturbate.”
Theresa’s eyes went wide. She wanted to, of course. She was painfully horny. But here at work? In front of Peter?
“Masturbate?” she asked.
“Of course,” said Peter. “When you’re horny, it’s perfectly natural to masturbate. If you’re so horny at work that you can’t focus on your assigned tasks, I expect you to relieve yourself. Vigorously. So you need to masturbate now. It’s part of your job.”
Almost of its own volition, Theresa’s hand went to her crotch. Her moist pussy kissed and sucked passionately at her fingers. All hesitation flew as her hand returned the affection, fingers pressing and stroking her grateful cunt. Her other hand went up to roughly grasp one of her tits and her eyes rolled back in her head. It felt so good! She pinched a nipple and sparks of pleasure exploded from it, traveling down her spine to ignite her clitty. She pressed the heel of her lower hand against her little pleasure knob as her fingers pushed the fabric of her work clothes to one side and began to probe deeper and deeper into her cunt.
Theresa had masturbated before, of course, but never with such urgency, such imperative. Before it was for pleasure; now it was part of her job. And she so wanted to do well at her job! She moaned as she pushed her three middle fingers into her dripping twat and fell to her knees. Without missing a beat, she continued to maul her pussy and tit.
“You’re doing very, very well, TT.” said Peter.
“Tha...tha...thank you!” she said, pumping harder. Her fingers were starting to ache. She needed to change hands. She did so quickly, changing tits as well. She wanted to show her new boss to know she was a hard worker.
“Marvelous work, TT,” he praised. “You take your work seriously, don’t you? You’re going to go far in this position, I can tell! But perhaps another position might help you maximize your efforts.”
He knelt beside her, placed one hand on her bare back underneath her hair and another on the tit that she had abandoned in favor of its twin. He eased her backward until her head rested on the floor. She continued to vigorously masturbate as she did so and his strong hand on her back and boob only heightened her frenzied arousal.
Now she lay on the soft, satiny carpeting. It felt luxurious on her skin, as if it had been made for just such a purpose. Her feet stayed tucked under, near her ass, but she was able to spread her knees much wider, allowing better access to her grateful pussy. Her boss was right—not having to worry about staying upright truly helped her focus on the task at hand.
His hand disappeared from her tit as he got up. She whimpered but didn’t stop. He left her field of vision but soon returned.
“Here, use this T.” he told her, presenting her with a long, knobby red dildo.
“Oh yes!” she exclaimed and grabbed it. It was huge but she was able to slip it into her cunt with little difficulty. The added depth was just what she needed! She was so close!
“So close...” she said.
“Use both hands, T,” said Peter. “I’ll take care of your titties.”
She gave incoherent thanks and took firm hold of the dildo, pistoning it with renewed vigor. Peter sat behind her, straddling her head as he took both of her large and greedy tits into his strong, rough hands. She felt the hot, throbbing mass of his manhood pressed against her head through his pants and she groaned in frustration. She needed to come so badly!
“Time to come now, TT.” Peter told her. “Finish it off.”
And like a good employee, she followed the directions of her boss. She gave a grunt and then came as she had never come before, writhing and shuddering as it racked her body and every pleasure center exploded.
She had no idea how long it lasted. It seemed an eternity. At last, she collapsed, panting and glistening with sweat.
“Well done,” said Peter. “Now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, you should be able to focus on your next task.”
She got to her feet and stood dutifully awaiting instructions, though weak-kneed and fuzzy-headed from her massive orgasm.
“Open the next box,” he instructed, indicating the box paired with the high-heeled golden sandals.
With trembling hands, Theresa opened it. There amongst the tissue paper was a tiny gold-lamiae bikini and a matching scrunchie.
“Quickly, now,” said Peter. “Change into your next work outfit.”
It was so much easier this time to switch off her brain and do her job. She stripped off the sweat-soaked negligee and draped it over the arm of the chair. She sat to pull off the boots, then strapped on the sandals. The thong bikini came next, followed by the top that left significant portions of her jugs bare, both above and below. She then tied her hair back with the scrunchy.
“Not like that,” her boss corrected. “Up on top of your head. Kind of ‘I Dream of Jeanie’ like.”
“Sorry,” she said and quickly rectified her outfit.
“Very good,” said Peter. “You’re next job is to dance.”
“Dance?” Theresa asked.
“Yes, dance,” said Peter, taking a seat behind his desk. “An important part of your new position is to dance as erotically and sensually as possible whenever it is required of you.”
He clicked something with his computer mouse and music began to throb from carefully hidden speakers throughout the room. It was a funky sort of music with a pounding, sensual bass line and a trilling alto sax. Assaulted by it from all sides, Theresa gave a shudder. Almost of their own volition, her hips started to sway to the rhythm. The motion traveled up her spine and thrust out her chest as her head began to sway contrary to her hips. Her hair swung back and forth, brushing her back and shoulders, sending shivers through her body. Her skin felt electrified.
She closed her eyes and drew her hands, spread-fingered, slowly up her body, up her thighs, over her hips, crossing along her stomach to reach under her tits, lifting them, clutching them, as her hips shifted from swaying to thrusting.
Her hands continued upward, over her jugs and up her neck and cheeks as she slowly licked her upper teeth, then on up over her head, lifting the massive weight of her long blonde hair up and then dropping it to cascade luxuriously down upon her.
Keeping her hands up above her head, she continued to undulate in time with the music. Peter told her what to do. The music told her how to do it. She didn’t have to think at all and the freedom was intoxicating.
“Now turn around and show me how you can work that sweet ass of yours,” he instructed.
Theresa smiled. She could do that. She turned about and focused on moving her ass as she continued to be guided by the throbbing bass, the pounding rhythm. Her hips swayed, the muscles of her ass and thighs tensed and relaxed in time with the music. She lowered one hand from above her head and gave her right flank a little slap.
“That’s right, TT,” Peter encouraged. “Spank that ass. Make it work.”
She had her instructions. She bent at the waist, grabbed the arm of her chair with the hand that had remained above her head. She thrust her ass back and up and proceeded to spank herself in time to the music.
Before, it had been just a playful flourish. Now it was a duty and she really wanted to excel at her new job. She whacked at her butt cheek with all the force she could muster. The staccato pain was a piquant addition to the sensuous pleasure that traveled throughout her body as she continued to dance, undulating her spine from the base of her skull to the tip of her pelvis where it met her descending hand with a whack.
She looked over her shoulder to see Peter staring with great interest at her performance. She licked her teeth slowly. She was getting horny again. She hoped Peter would tell her to masturbate again soon. Or maybe after work...but no, she needed to focus on her job. It was important. She had to work her ass.
“Now turn around again and shake those titties,” Peter told her.
She did it at once, spinning about and transitioning straight into a shimmy, her arms spread wide, her chest thrust forward, her head thrown back, swinging her pony-tail from side to side. Her jugs shook like thunder, barely contained by the tiny bikini.
But they were contained. How could she effectively do her job? How could she shake her tits to full effect?
She knew what she needed to do. Without missing a beat of her dance, she grabbed hold of the bikini top with both hands and forcefully pealed it down off of her jugs so that they sprang free. Then she shook them as hard as she could. It was painful but just like her spanking, the pain only added spice to the incredible pleasure she was feeling. She threw her head back and by rotating her shoulders, she caused each tit to rotate in the opposite direction, each pointed nipple tracing a perfect circle in the air.
“Oh Lord, TT,” said Peter. “They’re incredible! I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It’s time to bring your pussy into the action, TT. Rub your twat. Make your clitty dance too.”
She certainly didn’t have to be told twice. Her pussy was begging for attention. She thrust her hand down the front of her bikini and stroked her grateful slit in time with the music, all the while continuing to shake her tits and work her ass. She wanted her boss to know she could multitask.
“Now come, TT,” Peter instructed. “Come hard!”
And at last, she missed a beat as she fell to her knees and writhed and moaned, coming and coming, the room exploding around her, the roar in her head drowning out the music.
Theresa knelt panting and sweating, tingling with her afterglow, wondering what could possibly be next but ready for anything. She was just so good at this job! Peter kept saying so. She couldn’t help but believe it.
“Well, at last I think you’re ready for your most important duty in your new position, TT.” he told her. “Open the last box and put on your final work outfit for today.”
She did as she was told and found a short robe made of peacock-colored silk and two long ebony chop sticks for her hair. The box was paired with white silk slippers with a much more modest heel than with her other work outfits. She finished stripping off the biking, the sandals and the scrunchie, then put on the robe. The silk felt delicious against her skin. She tied it around her waist, leaving it open down to her navel so that the folds just barely covered her nipples. The hem was less than a fingers breadth beneath her twat.
She shook her long mane around her right shoulder and in front of her, then took it and wrapped it carefully, piling it atop her head and securing it with the dark sticks. She stepped into the slippers and stood flushed before her new boss dressed as a Caucasian geisha with incredible cleavage.
“What do I do next?” she asked. She craved his direction. Her head felt so empty without it.
“I should think that would be obvious, TT,” said Peter, strolling back behind his desk and sitting in his big chair. “This is the part where you suck my dick.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course,” she said.
She dutifully strode forward and knelt before her boss. Peter pushed a button on his computer and then unveiled his hard cock. Theresa shuddered. Her vision became tunneled, the hard cock its focus, her mind’s focus. The world revolved around this enormous cock. It was everything! She started to drool.
With a trembling hand, she reached out to reverently touch the God-Cock. It pulsed powerfully under her fingertips. With a face-splitting grin and a worshipful moan, she took the divine man-meat into her mouth. She caressed it with her lips. It was everything. It felt so good, so alive with in her mouth. Her heart was all a flutter and her mouth and snatch were drooling with equal intensity. She was fulfilling her ultimate purpose in life!
As her head bobbed worshipfully along The Rod, she was vaguely aware of her boss speaking to her.
“Oh God, TT, that feels so good! You have know idea how long I’ve waited for this moment. This was the first thing I thought of when I found this stuff: you, on your knees, sucking my dick with all your heart. But it’s even better than I imagined! Oh sweet Lord you’re good at that! I fucked my wife twice this morning in anticipation. Good thing too, or I never would have been able to wait this long while I got your brain good and pliant. It’s a whole new world, TT. It’s a world in which you give me head whenever I want it and God if it isn’t a beautiful thing.”
Theresa sighed in agreement around the God Cock. It was a beautiful thing. A beautiful, beautiful thing. She lovingly stroked his balls and pushed the head of his Cock deeper down her throat. Breathing was superfluous. The Cock was everything. And it loved her! It really did! It was pulsing, it was pounding. Theresa’s head swam as she realized that it was about to bless her with its Holy Spunk!
She groaned and came as The Cock filled her up with its hot, slick present. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed. It was by far her best orgasm of the morning.
Her vision slowly returned to normal. Peter was panting as Theresa smiled up at him and delighted in the flavor of his spunk. She had never enjoyed giving head so much in her life, and swallowing was more a privilege and a pleasure than a courtesy.
“You are very....VERY...good at that,” Peter praised.
She was so happy at the compliment she nearly swooned. Instead she just giggled.
“Thank you,” she said.
Peter grinned back at her. He rolled his chair back a bit and got to his feet. He put his dick away and sat back down. Theresa waited on her knees, eager to learn her next task.
“I couldn’t be happier with how well your first day has gone,” Peter continued. “But I think we’ll need several more training sessions before you are ready to remember them. This is a top secret project, after all, and so I need you to not consciously think about anything you do here in the division when you are outside of this room, at least for the first week. Once we’re sure the training has taken, we’ll consider letting you remember your duties outside. So, are you ready to forget?”
Theresa frowned. It was her job to forget that she had done her job. It was a hard task her boss had set before her and she wasn’t sure where to begin.
“Um, Peter?” she said sheepishly. “I’m not sure how to do it.”
Peter grinned at her.
“Don’t worry about it, TT,” he said. “It’ll be easy. Fun even. I have a little something that will help you do it.”
He opened one of many drawers in his desk and pulled out something that looked sort of like a remote control, except it had only one button, one dial, and a thick cord that extended back into the drawer. He turned the dial with a click and she heard a hum as it powered up. A panel on the front of the thing began to glow red.
“Now, this little toy is going to help you forget and make you feel very, very good in the process.” He explained. “All you have to do is relax and let it happen.”
“Relax and let it happen,” Theresa repeated.
He grinned.
“Now, lay your head here on my thigh, close your eyes and clear your mind.”
She did as instructed. Peter stroked her head and then there was a slight prickling sensation as he pressed something to the base of her skull. There was a fluttering deep with in her cunt and then she had a small orgasm.
“Mmmm,” she said. This was nice, whatever it was.
And then, before the first climax had subsided, along came another one, about twice as strong.
“MMmmmm” she said.
She didn’t know how this was supposed to help her forget but she certainly wasn’t complaining.
And then the next one came, stronger still, and the next, double the last. Again and again they came, pounding and pounding. She was a tiny bit of drift wood on the beach and she was being inundated with wave after wave of pleasure, slamming down on her, pushing her mind this way and that, overwhelming all her senses.
“Nnnngh!” she exclaimed, clamping onto Peter’s leg and shuddering. “NnnghNnnghNNNNH!”
And still they came and still she came, again and again, stronger and stronger, the waves of pleasure became tsunami. And then she was falling, falling in to a deep, dark warm hole that seemed somehow to be her own cunt.
And then there was nothing.