The Devil and the Sea Ch. 04

[Recap: Anya wants to learn how to top Jen so with Henry's help they've concocted Mistress X, an online domme profile. Jen needs to complete a series of increasingly erotic challenges to prove she wants Mistress X to control her. You can read 'The Monogamists' for the backstory if you want to find out how Henry, Jen and Anya met.]

OFFICE POLITICS

Anya was determined to win the argument.

"What's the point of it?" she asked. "Why go to the effort otherwise?"

We were on the balcony, our chosen spot for our little conspiracy discussions.

"I just...," I began.

"I know what you're thinking," Anya interrupted, "And I have to say it sounds a lot like you're losing your nerve."

That stung me, and I retorted, "Or I'm the only one actually being objective."

Anya made a dismissing gesture with her hand.

"We both agreed," she reminded me, "This was giving Jen what she wants."

I took a moment, picking my words carefully.

"Maybe it's more what you want," I said.

Anya stiffened and I knew instantly that I'd pushed too far.

"So you think I want to plough ahead because I'm getting a kick out of this?"

I nodded. I knew I was making her angry, but I couldn't just leave it.

"Jen's loving it," Anya retorted.

"But there's a difference between what she wants and what she needs," I replied.

"You don't think I know that?"

Again, I picked my words very carefully.

"I know you have her best interests at heart," I said, "I do too. But fucking with her mind like this can go real bad."

"We stop before that happens."

"And when do we know when that is?"

"We'll know," Anya said, forcefully, "I'll know. I'll know when it's too much."

I didn't reply, I just stared at my hands. I felt the advantage slipping from my grasp.

"We can call this at any time. Jen's having fun. I'm having fun. And Henry," she nudged my arm, "Admit it. You're having fun too."

I knew that I was defeated, at that. I was having fun, despite a nagging uncertainty about the way Jen was responding to being controlled by her fantasy Mistress.

"We good?" she pressed.

"Yeah," I conceded, "All good."

Anya wrapped her arm around my shoulder. At times like these, she was very much her father's daughter.

"You worry too much. I love the way you do that," she said, "But you worry too much."

Anya worried too little, I thought, but I didn't say anything more. I followed her back into the living room, the noise of the evening news on in the background. I flopped down on the couch, trying to articulate in my head the thing that was itching under my skin. I wanted to believe Anya, but I'd lived with Jen long enough now to understand how deep the waters ran and how powerfully, often with only the faintest ripple on the surface.

"That's really sad," Anya said, and I turned to focus on her.

"What is?"

"The girl who died. She was the same age as us."

Anya was watching the screen. The newsreader was talking about the café siege from last week, where a lone-wolf had taken hostages in the middle of the city. The details had been everywhere since, especially how two women hostages had run for their lives and the gunman had managed to get one shot off before he was killed. It just seemed so arbitrary: they didn't know each other, they'd just stopped in for coffee at the same time, but they'd both decided to make a run for it together, and the bullet had found one of them and not the other.

I could see Anya was frowning, distant.

"My Nana had a phrase. Carpe diem, she used to say."

"What's that?" I asked.

"It's Roman. She liked old phrases. She was reminding me that life is fleeting."

"But what does that mean?"

Anya looked at me before replying, "Seize the day."

---

I was making myself a cup of tea in the work kitchen area when I heard footsteps behind me.

"Hey," said Lily.

"Hi," I replied as I dropped the teabags into the composting receptacle.

"You know that doesn't do anything, right?" Lily said. "It all goes to landfill."

"Maybe it doesn't," I countered.

"Yeah, maybe you're saving the world," she mocked.

"Were you looking for me for anything particular?"

"Yeah, we have a two o'clock post-implementation meeting. Going through the Starling rollout. You didn't accept."

I shook my head. "Ah, sorry, I haven't checked email recently."

"Too busy thinking about other stuff?"

I shrugged, not committing any further information for Lily to file away for later use.

"Or maybe you're just exhausted, huh?" Lily said as she patted me on the shoulder.

I turned to look at her. She was smiling smugly.

"Don't feel bad," she said, turning to leave. "Two on one would take it out of anybody."

I could handle Lily, generally, but this time I watched her walk away and thought: what the fuck gave her the right to judge me? Judge us?

Lily was jealous of Jen and Anya having me, as if in her mind I was clearly some kind of sex god to have two beautiful women to take to bed. She had no idea how it really worked in our relationship, the way Anya and I arranged our lives with Jen as if we were two couples in the same house, how complicated it actually was, and how little we needed commentary from other people.

---

I had orchestrated a meeting up on level ten for just before lunch. It was in one of the little glass goldfish bowl meeting rooms in the middle of the floorplate with Clive and his offsider, talking about integrating my models with their forecasting spreadsheets. I liked Clive, but (God!) the subject was dull. It did, however, give me the chance to grab the chair that let me look out to where Anya sat.

My phone pinged again. Clive looked up.

"You're in demand today," he noted.

I scanned the message and lied, "Yeah, they're all bothered about the new numbers."

"We could rearrange this," Clive offered.

"Nah," I said, "They can wait. An hour won't kill them. But let me just respond."

Clive nodded. I appreciated his accommodating nature, though I had a pang of guilt about lying to him. I tapped out a message quickly:

H: What have you got her to do?

I looked up at Anya, her head bent down to her phone.

A: I've asked for an upskirt video

I looked up at Clive quickly.

"Sorry, just need to deal with this," I said. My fingers worked rapidly:

H: What the fuck? Do we need to talk?

I tried to get my head back into the meeting with Clive, concentrating on spreadsheet interfaces while I knew both the women in my life were sitting no more than a few metres away from me engaged in what would be a highly sexual and rapidly-escalating game of chicken.

The phone pinged again and I flipped it upside down. Clive's eyebrows raised. Whatever Anya's message was, I knew that if I read it there'd be no chance of looking Clive in the eye for the rest of the meeting.

"They can wait," I said by way of explanation.

Clive continued with the discussion and I limped my way through the rest of the meeting. I kept glancing up to check on Anya. I could see her head was down and she was on her phone. If it wasn't my phone that was pinging then I knew Anya would be busily making Jen suffer in some weirdly creative way.

Finally, Clive finished and we wrapped up the meeting. My phone pinged again.

"Better take a look," he advised, picking up his laptop and preparing to leave.

Against my better judgement, I picked up my phone and checked messages. The first one was the message I'd ignored earlier:

A: Sure we can talk, let's do lunch

The second one was a close-up of a vagina with the caption: "Score!"

I hurriedly stuffed my phone into my pocket, acutely aware that I had a picture of Jen's crotch on my screen and Clive in front of me.

"Gotta jet," I said, and exited the meeting room hurriedly.

I could see Anya grinning at me from across the floor and headed over to her desk.

"What have you been doing?" I asked.

Anya didn't answer. Instead, she passed me her phone.

"Just catch up while I grab my handbag," Anya said. "Jen's busy in a meeting so it's just the two of us."

"That might be for the best," I replied as I began to read the messages:

X: Morning Jen. Are you at work?

J: Yes Mistress

X: Are you fully clothed?

J: Yes Mistress

X: Remove your panties. Don't get up from your desk. Take a picture as evidence when you have completed this task.

J: Yes Mistress

The next entry was a picture of Jen's lace panties on her desk

"Holy fuck," I hissed.

"That was the warm-up," Anya replied, hooking her arm in mine as she walked us to the elevators. "Keep reading."

I looked back to the screen, scrolling past the underwear picture.

X: Now I'm going to need an upskirt photo to prove that you're now pantless. You have one minute to comply.

The next picture was the one that Anya had already sent me. I noted the timestamp.

X: You're not very good at this. That was one minute thirty five seconds. It appears that we need to increase the stakes. Don't fail again

The elevator chimed and we got in. Anya saw how far I'd gotten and giggled.

"What did you do?" I asked.

Anya was buzzing with excitement.

"I obviously know where Jen is, which means Mistress X knows where Jen is. So I waited until she was in the big conference room in the middle of a meeting."

I swiped the screen with my thumb and continued to read:

X: I need video this time. One minute.

The next message was about twenty seconds long, opening up with a wild, shaking shot that finally settled on a pair of knees under a table, covered by a grey work skirt. I could see a hand take hold of the material of the skirt and gradually inch it up over the knees. Then I watched the knees part, spreading out until Jen's uncovered pussy was in full view. The screen dissolved into a mass of motion and the video finished.

We arrived at the ground floor, but I didn't get out. I was staring dumbstruck at the next message:

X: Very poor quality and I have no evidence that this was actually you and not something you downloaded. You're doing terribly at this. If you don't take my instructions seriously, then why should I continue?

"That's pretty, uh...," I began.

"Good, right?" Anya answered, eagerly. "I sounded good, didn't I?"

"Sure," I conceded. "What's the next move?"

"I want to see her fully exposed. Phone please," Anya said. She took me by the arm and dragged me out of the elevator.

I gave her the phone back and she typed another message.

"What did you say?" I asked, suspiciously.

"Let's get to the food court. We need a seat. Her meeting will be finished soon and then it's game time."

We exited the building and crossed the road to the food court in the next block. I found a table and we hunkered down, Anya's phone sitting dark and silent on the table between us.

"What did you...?" I began.

Anya shushed me. "The meeting ended five minutes ago," she said.

The phone buzzed and Anya flipped it over excitedly. Hey eyes went wide.

"it's like I have her on remote control," Anya breathed. "Whatever I type in here gets turned into a video for me."

Anya laid the phone on the table between us. There was a single message and then a video file:

X: Again. Last chance

I pressed play on the message.

I watched Jen filming herself in close-up, the camera jiggling as she moved. She appeared to bend over and the camera shot steadied itself. Jen must have propped it somewhere, giving us a view of the conference table and a chair in front. I could clearly see the plate glass walls of the meeting room and the ranks of desks arrayed across the floor, full of people.

Jen sat in the chair and smoothed her blonde hair behind her ears, sitting up very straight, accentuating the curve of her breasts under her work blouse. Slowly, she hitched up the grey dress, exposing her lovely, toned legs. She spread herself wide and smiled.

"She really went for it," I breathed. Anya was silent.

Then Jen's fingers fumbled around the top button on her blouse. I watched as she unbuttoned her top to reveal her flesh-coloured bra underneath. She teased her blouse wider and reached up to her beautiful pert breasts. Mesmerised, I watched her reach into each bra cup and pop her breasts over the top, exposing her exquisite tits and rock-hard nipples. Jen folded her arms behind her back and raised her chin, forcing her breasts to jut out in front of her for the pleasure of her Mistress.

Anya and I both stared at the screen: Jen had willingly put herself on full display in the middle of the crowded office. She leaned forwards, finger extended, and the screen froze.

"Fucking hell," I murmured.

"That was hot," Anya agreed. "I am saving that video forever."

I stared at the screen, watching Jen's frozen face, breasts hanging down as she leaned forward. It was her expression, her smile. No trace of embarrassment or discomfort. She was doing what her Mistress had commanded and it made her happy.

"Lunch," I said. "Need to eat, get the blood sugar back up."

"First you need to get something down," Anya laughed, looking at my crotch.

She was right. I was rigid.

"I think we can crank it up a notch," Anya said and began to type.

"Let me read it before you send."

Anya didn't reply but after tapping the screen for a few moments she turned the phone to me. I read the message:

X: I see that you went further than instructed. Are you incapable of understanding a simple request? Every failure means the task will be escalated. I now require a full frontal video in a public place. You can take as long as you need to set this up, but whether I accept your demonstration of your dedication is directly related to where you set the video. Your training is suspended and I will not contact you again unless this is completed to my satisfaction

Anya hit send. Up on the tenth floor, Jen would be glued to her screen. I imagined that she would already be sopping.

---

At the end of the day Anya came and found me and we went home together. Jen had said that she had to work late and she would see us at home in time for dinner. We knew what she really had in mind, so we left her to it.

I was in the middle of spaghetti carbonara in the kitchen when Anya came barrelling in.

"Stop," she said breathlessly, "You have to stop and see this."

Anya was holding up her phone in front of her like it was a sacred artifact. Her cheeks were flushed, and I could see she was buzzing with excitement. I turned the heat off and took the phone from her outstretched hand.

"Sit down," she said. "You'll need to."

"I'm guessing you've already watched it," I replied.

"Twice."

I sat down at the kitchen table and pressed play on the screen. Anya came up behind me and leaned on my shoulders, her face next to my ear. I could feel her breath on my cheek, hot and sweet.

The video started with a view along the high street, jiggling up and down in a way that suggested Jen was walking and filming at the same time. People approached, seemingly oblivious to being filmed.

"It all looks pretty normal," I remarked.

"Oh babe, just give it a moment. Jen's about to go completely off the reservation."

The traffic was to her right, and to her left there was a row of shops. It was dark and the shops had already closed up for the night, so Jen was passing a set of displays in darkened windows. She stopped at one of them and appeared to be filming a set of mannequins in activewear.

Then I looked closer. Between the mannequins was Jen, reflected in the glass. She was wearing her jacket, buttoned up tightly around her neck, coming down to just above her knees. It took me a few moments to work out what was wrong with the picture, and when I realised I felt a throb of blood to my groin. Her grey work skirt usually came down below her knees, but all I could see were Jen's lovely, shapely, bare legs.

"Holy shit," I breathed, "Where's her skirt?"

Anya gave my shoulders an excited squeeze in response.

While holding up the phone with one hand, Jen began to unbutton her jacket with the other. A couple walked past behind her; Jen didn't even flinch. I watched her fingers unhook button after button, exposing cleavage and then her belly button. She popped the final button and the jacket parted to show Jen's perfect, gorgeous, completely naked body. I was painfully hard now, appreciating that Jen would have had to strip naked at work, walk downstairs, go outside, and stand in the bus queue completely naked under her jacket. She would have had to stand feeling nothing but air around her body, nestled up next to strangers in a packed bus. Now, she was on the high street where we lived, revealing her gorgeous, supple body in the reflection of a shop window with passers-by only metres away.

"Anya," I said, "That's so hot."

"Wait."

It was Jen's face that caught my attention, the lust in her eyes and the strange, wild smile. Her free hand dipped into her jacket, cupping a breast. I watched as her thumb stroked over a swollen nipple. She brought her fingers up to her mouth and licked them.

"Oh fuck," I said, "Tell me she's not going to...."

Jen lowered her moistened fingers to her groin and began to run her fingers over her pussy lips, gently stroking the entire length of her slit. With two fingers, she carefully spread herself apart and inserted her fingers deep into her pussy, her thumb now brushing her clit while she thrust her fingers into herself. The camera angle wobbled a little and I watched her close her eyes.

Behind her, a girl passed by. She stopped, turning towards the camera and Jen's reflection, and I felt my chest contract. Jen's eyes were closed tightly, she would have no idea she was being watched. The girl was probably no more than twenty, cute, with long brown hair in a ponytail, eyes wide, staring at the woman pleasuring herself in public. There was audio on the clip and I could hear Jen begin to groan, edging herself. She opened her eyes and there was a split second before she realised she had a voyeur behind her, but it didn't matter. Jen continued to thrust her fingers deep into her pussy, her mouth forming a perfect 'O'. The other girl stared.

I thought that Jen would bring herself to orgasm, then I remembered that she needed permission to cum. She brought herself to the brink, and then extracted her fingers, still panting heavily. I could see that Jen was staring at the reflection of the girl behind her, looking her directly in the eyes. Jen smiled to the camera and wrapped her jacket back around her. The video ended.

Anya breathed in my ear, whispering, "I want to archive this forever. I think I'll still be watching this when I'm ninety."

"I need the phone," I said, "I need to do something."

Anya acquiesced, and I typed out a short message:

X: I want you to be standing in front of your front door at exactly seven thirty, naked. Knock twice. Your husband will decide what to do with you.

Anya made a face. "So you get to have Jen?"

"Only fair," I replied. "You've been playing with her all day. I'm fucking blue."

I typed again:

X: Send the video to his phone. He needs to know what a slut you are

I shrugged. "I want to keep it forever too. Let's eat."

---

We were sitting on the couch at seven thirty when I heard the knock on the door. For some reason that I didn't want to delve into too deeply, I hadn't told Jen to be home at seven o'clock, but half an hour later. Some part of me enjoyed the idea of my beautiful partner having to kill time wandering the high street, completely naked under her jacket. I knew it would be deeply erotic for Jen too, to have no choice but to flash her long, shapely legs in public, feeling the jacket fabric only coming down to mid-thigh.

I went to the door and drew in a long breath. My cock twitched with anticipation; I opened the door.