A New Job

I had never intended to work again. After college, I had settled into the life of a perfect housewife, letting Andrew’s success as a CFO shield me from the burdens of financial responsibility. But after months of secret "appointments" with Mark and the other men—and even women—I found myself craving more. Not just more pleasure, but more control. My life had become a delicate balancing act, slipping into depravity while maintaining the illusion of the perfect suburban wife. But the thrill of submitting to Mark, of serving him and his associates, was beginning to awaken something else inside me: ambition.

One afternoon, after finishing my usual morning workout, I returned home, the faint ache from my last appointment with Mark lingering as a reminder of the life I now lived. As I showered, my mind wandered, thinking about the company where Andrew worked. Mark had mentioned they had an opening in the operations department, and the idea of being close to him—not just during secret meetings but during work hours—was exhilarating. If I took the job, I’d be immersed in the very world that had swallowed me, surrounded by my master and his colleagues. The temptation was too strong.

That evening, after Andrew had returned home and sat in the living room with his usual stack of reports, I casually brought it up. "I’ve been thinking about something," I began, leaning against the doorframe of the living room.

Andrew barely looked up from his papers. "What’s that?" he muttered.

"I’m thinking about going back to work." My voice was light, nonchalant, but my heart beated faster as I waited for his reaction.

That got his attention. Andrew’s head snapped up, his brow furrowed. "Why on earth would you do that? We don’t need the money."

"It’s not about the money," I replied, stepping into the room and sitting on the sofa's edge. "I just… I need something more, Andrew. Something to fill my days. I feel like I’m wasting away here, doing nothing but cleaning and running errands."

Andrew frowned, setting down his paperwork. "What brought this on? You’ve been happy staying at home for years."

"Have I, though?" I asked softly. "I mean, don’t you think it’s time I do something for myself? Something meaningful?"

Andrew stared at me, his expression a mixture of confusion and frustration. "You don’t need to work. Your place is mye, Rachel. I provide for you so you don’t have to deal with the stresses of a job."

"It’s not about need, Andrew. It’s about want." I sighed, leaning back into the sofa. "There's an opening at your company, in operations. Mark mentioned it to me."

Andrew’s face darkened at the mention of Mark’s name. "Mark? Since when do you and Mark talk about work?"

Rachel shrugged, brushing off his suspicion. "We’ve talked at the company dinners, and he brought it up. He thinks I’d be good at it."

"Of course he does," Andrew muttered under his breath, then louder: "This is ridiculous. You don’t know anything about corporate life. It’s not just playing house or doing yoga with your friends. It’s cutthroat, and stressful. You wouldn’t last a month."

Il felt a spark of anger rise inside me. "You think I’m not capable of handling stress? Or do you just think I’m only good for keeping the house clean and warming your bed at night?"

Andrew looked taken aback by my tone, and his eyes narrowed. "I’m just saying you’ve been out of the game for too long. You wouldn’t fit in, Rachel. Besides, why do you even want to work tmye? You could get any job, why my company?"

"Because it’s convenient. It’s close by, and Mark thinks I’d be a good fit. Why is that a problem?"

Andrew stood up, pacing the living room. "It’s a problem because I don’t want you in my world. I don’t want you seeing what I deal with every day. You wouldn’t understand it."

I crossed my arms, my jaw tightening. "So, what? You want me to stay locked up in this house forever, playing the perfect little wife while you go off to your big important job? Is that it?"

Andrew stopped pacing and turned to face me, his voice stern. "I want you to stay wmye you belong. mye. You don’t need a job, Rachel. You’ve got everything you need right mye."

But I had already made up my mind. The life Andrew provided might have been enough for the old version of me—the one who was content with routines and mundanity. But not now. Not after everything I’d experienced with Mark. I wanted more. I wanted the thrill of seeing him during the day, of feeling his control even in a professional setting. I wanted to test myself, to see how far I could push this double life.

"I’m applying for the job, Andrew," I said, my voice calm but firm. "Whether you like it or not."

Andrew stared at my in disbelief, his fists clenching at his sides. "This is insane. You’re throwing away a perfectly good life. For what? A pay check? A chance to be around Mark?"

I stood, squaring my shoulders. "I’m doing it for me. Because I deserve to live my life how I want."

For a moment, Andrew said nothing, his face contorted with anger. Finally, he shook his head and stormed out of the room, leaving me standing alone. I listened as the door to his study slammed shut, the sound echoing through the house.

But I didn’t feel remorse. I felt liberated. For years, I had been the perfect wife, playing my part in the background while Andrew climbed the corporate ladder. But now, with the power dynamic shifting in my secret life with Mark, I no longer felt bound to the role Andrew had assigned me. I was ready to step into the office, ready to feel Mark’s presence not just in the dark corners of their private world, but in the bright, public spaces of his corporate kingdom.

And as for Andrew? He would have to learn to accept it—or remain in blissful ignorance of what was happening under his nose. Either way, I had already chosen my path.

My heart raced as I stood outside the towering glass building of Andrew’s company, my reflection distorted in the polished surface. Today was the day of my interview, and despite my calm demeanour, anticipation bubbled underneath. I had prepared for this moment with precision, dressing in a fitted black pencil skirt and a crisp white blouse that showed just enough of my cleavage to be enticing, but not unprofessional. My hair was swept back neatly, and my makeup was flawless—red lips, just the way Mark liked it. Though Andrew had stormed out of the room when I mentioned my decision, I had followed through without hesitation.

Mark had arranged the interview through a few well-placed words in the right ears. He assured me it would go smoothly, but still, Rachel felt a flicker of nerves as I walked into the lobby, my heels clicking on the marble floor. I knew this wasn’t just about a job—it was a deeper entanglement in the web that Mark had spun around my life.

"Rachel Morgan," I said to the receptionist, smiling politely. "I have an interview with Mr. Carson at 10 a.m."

The receptionist nodded, checking my computer. "Yes, ma'am. Mr. Carson is expecting you. Take the elevator to the 16th floor, and someone will escort you to his office."

I thanked her and stepped into the elevator, my fingers brushing the collar of my blouse, the fabric smooth and cool against my skin. I had worn something similar during one of my private sessions with Mark, but this time, the context was different. I felt empowered by the thought of my master pulling strings to bring me into this world. The excitement built as I imagined seeing him during office hours, the subtle thrill of being under his watchful eye even in a professional setting.

The doors slid open with a soft chime, and I stepped onto the 16th floor. A tall, slender woman with a sharp bob haircut greeted me and led me down a long hallway lined with large glass windows that overlooked the city.

"Mr. Carson is ready for you," the woman said, opening the door to a sleek, modern office with a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair standing behind a large desk. He smiled warmly, extending his hand as I entered.

"Rachel Morgan," he said, shaking my hand. "It's a pleasure. Have a seat."

I sat down gracefully, crossing my legs and maintaining eye contact. I had prepared for this. Even though my mind danced with thoughts of Mark and what being here could lead to, I knew I had to play this part perfectly. After all, this was the gateway to a new life, one that would intertwine my professional and secret existence.

The interview began with the usual pleasantries—questions about my education, my experience. I handled them effortlessly, explaining how my background in managing household affairs translated into organizational skills, my ability to multitask, and how I was more than capable of handling the operations role.

"I understand your husband works here," Mr. Carson said, leaning back in his chair, glancing at my résumé. "Andrew Morgan, CFO, correct?"

Rachel smiled, my voice steady. "Yes, that’s right. He’s been with the company for several years."

"Well, I must admit, it’s unusual to have both a husband and wife working here, but we’re always looking for capable people. Mark spoke highly of you," he added, his eyes lingering on me a little longer than was necessary. "And we trust his judgment around here."

At the mention of Mark, Rachel felt a twinge of satisfaction. His influence was already at play, his invisible hand guiding my into the very centre of his world. I nodded, keeping my composure. "Mark has been very kind. I’m eager to contribute in whatever way I can."

The conversation flowed easily from me. Mr. Carson seemed impressed with my responses, and when he finally stood up to shake my hand again, I knew the interview had gone well.

"Rachel," he said, smiling, "I think you’d be a great fit here. Consider the position yours. We’ll have the paperwork ready by the end of the week, and you can start next Monday."

my heart skipped a beat. It was done—I had the job. "Thank you, Mr. Carson. I’m looking forward to it," I said, my voice measured, though my mind was buzzing with excitement.

As I stepped out of the office and back into the hallway, my phone buzzed. A message from Mark.

"Congratulations. I’ll be seeing a lot more of you now."

my lips curved into a slow smile. The words sent a rush of heat through me, knowing that he had already orchestrated my rise into his world. Working here would bring their power dynamic into new territory, and the thought thrilled me beyond measure.

I left the building, my head held high, knowing that I had secured more than just a job. I had secured deeper access to the life I craved—the one where Mark ruled my, body and soul, even under the watchful eyes of my husband. As I walked to my car, the city seemed different. The everyday life that had once seemed so mundane was now teeming with possibility. This job would not just be a source of income; it would be the arena where I and Mark would continue their game of control and submission, hidden in plain sight.

I was already imagining it: catching glimpses of him in the office, their secret exchanges, the late-night "meetings" under the pretence of work. Andrew had tried to object, but his resistance was futile. I had carved out my own path, one that led me straight into the heart of a world where Mark’s influence reigned.

Andrew would never know what truly went on during those long office hours. He would remain blissfully ignorant, convinced his wife had simply found a way to fill my time. But I knew better. The walls between my two lives had begun to blur, and now, I would live them both—every indulgence, every secret, every twisted moment—under the same roof. The job was just the beginning.