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Foxy Lady
Star
- Joined
- Jan 30, 2014
- Location
- United Kingdom
First things first. I had to check that I had the right woman. I was busy for the next couple of days, but on Friday I sat outside Mart’s offices and waited. It was obvious who Amy was as soon as she stepped out of the building. Amy could have been mistaken for my sister, or even for me. She matched my cleaner’s description of the woman who had intercepted my mail. No doubt about it.
Having found out who she was, how she had done it fell into place. It was easy to see how she had have found out about my accounts and got a copy of my signature. At a distance and with just a glance, she would be mistaken for me. No one would have been suspicious if they had seen her at my purse.
And that gave me the clue for how I would extract my revenge. I could do exactly what she had done. We were so alike, no one would notice if they saw me rummaging through her bag. All I needed was to pick my time and buy a new coat. I’d noticed that she always wore the same coat to work, so I bought one that looked the same and a few days later, I followed her into a bar. It wasn’t long before she left her purse lying on the table. Within a minute I had all the information I wanted and was gone before she came back. No one took any notice of me.
Now for my plan. First, there were some online purchases to make, using her credit card details of course, with the goods sent to me as a gift. As soon as they had arrived, I sent Amy a text, inviting her to a meeting to discuss a possible position with a new firm, asking that she keep the approach confidential, and hinting at more responsibility and an increased salary. She replied almost immediately accepting my invitation. That just left me to book a suite in a local (and expensive) hotel, in her name and using her credit card details again. I sent her a text confirming the time and place for her interview. The stage was set.
There was a good view from the lobby, so I waited there until I saw Amy approaching and then hurried to the suite, where I waited behind the door, leaving it ajar. She knocked delicately and pushed the door open. As soon as she was in the room, I slammed the door shut. She spun round and I planted my knee into her crotch. I watched her turn pale under her makeup before she spluttered and sank to her knees. I strolled over to a chair and settled down to watch her pain. She groaned and moaned, tried to rise but was doubled over by a spasm of pain through her belly. As the pain began to ease, her moans and groans developed into vivid and powerful curses. After what seemed like hours, and was probably about five minutes, she managed to stagger to a chair and collapse herself into it. Revenge was sweet. So far.
There was a glass of water on the coffee table in front of her. I indicated it with my toe.
‘Have a sip,’ I told her sweetly. ‘It’ll help you feel better.’
There was a look of almost pathetic gratitude on her face as she accepted my invitation.
‘I think you’ll agree,’ I continued as she sipped, ‘that I owed you that one.’
She nodded and finally managed to speak her first coherent sentence.
‘It wasn’t necessary to bust you like that, but I just couldn’t resist it.’
Well, at least she was honest and we were spared the tedious pretence of her asking who the hell I was and what this was about.
‘How did you find out?’ she gasped, just as another spasm hit her.
‘It was easy in the end, although it took a while,’ I replied. ‘I broke the anagrams, then worked out who had sent the lingerie. Mart and I were fucking when I finally realised it was you.’
That last bit wasn’t strictly true, but I enjoyed the extra pain it would bring for her to think about us in bed.
‘Which brings me to the question of why,’ I continued.
Amy took another sip before replying.
‘Because you deserve it. You’re a fucking whore. You don’t love him, not like I do. You just want to fuck him and then move on. He probably only picked you because you remind him of me.’
‘So,’ I posed the obvious question, ‘why do you suppose he didn’t just fuck you instead of finding a look-alike?’
Her reply was instant. So instant that she must have asked herself that same question and struggled for an answer.
‘Because he’s weak, that’s why, like all men. It easy to lead them by the cock and that’s what you did.’
‘So,’ I persisted, ‘why didn’t you lead him by the cock?’
‘Respect,’ she spat back at me. ‘I respect him and you don’t. It’s that simple.’
‘That’s just an excuse.’ I was playing for time. That was all I needed, just a little more time. ‘You just don’t have the courage to do anything about how you feel and you lost out to me, just like you’ll continue to lose out. Why would any guy bother with someone like you who can’t even tell him how she feels?’
She found it difficult to formulate a reply to that. The drug was taking effect.
‘You seem tired,’ I said as sympathetically as I could. ‘It’s the pain. Why not lie down for a few minutes. You’ll soon feel better.’
She was struggling to keep her eyes open and even took another sip of her drink to try to wake herself up, not realising that that was what was making her sleepy. I took her by the arm and supported her to the bed, where she was soon asleep.
Now for the rest of my plan.
It was easy to strip her of her clothes. Dressing her, though, was more difficult. It’s not something I’ve ever had any practice at doing. But when I had finished, she looked good, if you like that sort of thing. Stockings, suspenders, string, nipple clips linked with chains, ball gag. Applying the makeup was easier, the full tarty look with lots of mascara and bright red lipstick. Handcuffs and ropes held her spreadeagled over the bed. And to complete the picture, a whip tossed apparently casually onto the bed.
I stood back and took a photo and sent a copy to her phone as a memento.
Come the morning, the cleaners would find her, looking exactly like a sex worker who had been robbed by a client.
If the cleaners were kind, they might even find her some clothes to get back home, because I was taking hers with me to drop off at the nearest dumpster.
Vengeance is mine.
Having found out who she was, how she had done it fell into place. It was easy to see how she had have found out about my accounts and got a copy of my signature. At a distance and with just a glance, she would be mistaken for me. No one would have been suspicious if they had seen her at my purse.
And that gave me the clue for how I would extract my revenge. I could do exactly what she had done. We were so alike, no one would notice if they saw me rummaging through her bag. All I needed was to pick my time and buy a new coat. I’d noticed that she always wore the same coat to work, so I bought one that looked the same and a few days later, I followed her into a bar. It wasn’t long before she left her purse lying on the table. Within a minute I had all the information I wanted and was gone before she came back. No one took any notice of me.
Now for my plan. First, there were some online purchases to make, using her credit card details of course, with the goods sent to me as a gift. As soon as they had arrived, I sent Amy a text, inviting her to a meeting to discuss a possible position with a new firm, asking that she keep the approach confidential, and hinting at more responsibility and an increased salary. She replied almost immediately accepting my invitation. That just left me to book a suite in a local (and expensive) hotel, in her name and using her credit card details again. I sent her a text confirming the time and place for her interview. The stage was set.
There was a good view from the lobby, so I waited there until I saw Amy approaching and then hurried to the suite, where I waited behind the door, leaving it ajar. She knocked delicately and pushed the door open. As soon as she was in the room, I slammed the door shut. She spun round and I planted my knee into her crotch. I watched her turn pale under her makeup before she spluttered and sank to her knees. I strolled over to a chair and settled down to watch her pain. She groaned and moaned, tried to rise but was doubled over by a spasm of pain through her belly. As the pain began to ease, her moans and groans developed into vivid and powerful curses. After what seemed like hours, and was probably about five minutes, she managed to stagger to a chair and collapse herself into it. Revenge was sweet. So far.
There was a glass of water on the coffee table in front of her. I indicated it with my toe.
‘Have a sip,’ I told her sweetly. ‘It’ll help you feel better.’
There was a look of almost pathetic gratitude on her face as she accepted my invitation.
‘I think you’ll agree,’ I continued as she sipped, ‘that I owed you that one.’
She nodded and finally managed to speak her first coherent sentence.
‘It wasn’t necessary to bust you like that, but I just couldn’t resist it.’
Well, at least she was honest and we were spared the tedious pretence of her asking who the hell I was and what this was about.
‘How did you find out?’ she gasped, just as another spasm hit her.
‘It was easy in the end, although it took a while,’ I replied. ‘I broke the anagrams, then worked out who had sent the lingerie. Mart and I were fucking when I finally realised it was you.’
That last bit wasn’t strictly true, but I enjoyed the extra pain it would bring for her to think about us in bed.
‘Which brings me to the question of why,’ I continued.
Amy took another sip before replying.
‘Because you deserve it. You’re a fucking whore. You don’t love him, not like I do. You just want to fuck him and then move on. He probably only picked you because you remind him of me.’
‘So,’ I posed the obvious question, ‘why do you suppose he didn’t just fuck you instead of finding a look-alike?’
Her reply was instant. So instant that she must have asked herself that same question and struggled for an answer.
‘Because he’s weak, that’s why, like all men. It easy to lead them by the cock and that’s what you did.’
‘So,’ I persisted, ‘why didn’t you lead him by the cock?’
‘Respect,’ she spat back at me. ‘I respect him and you don’t. It’s that simple.’
‘That’s just an excuse.’ I was playing for time. That was all I needed, just a little more time. ‘You just don’t have the courage to do anything about how you feel and you lost out to me, just like you’ll continue to lose out. Why would any guy bother with someone like you who can’t even tell him how she feels?’
She found it difficult to formulate a reply to that. The drug was taking effect.
‘You seem tired,’ I said as sympathetically as I could. ‘It’s the pain. Why not lie down for a few minutes. You’ll soon feel better.’
She was struggling to keep her eyes open and even took another sip of her drink to try to wake herself up, not realising that that was what was making her sleepy. I took her by the arm and supported her to the bed, where she was soon asleep.
Now for the rest of my plan.
It was easy to strip her of her clothes. Dressing her, though, was more difficult. It’s not something I’ve ever had any practice at doing. But when I had finished, she looked good, if you like that sort of thing. Stockings, suspenders, string, nipple clips linked with chains, ball gag. Applying the makeup was easier, the full tarty look with lots of mascara and bright red lipstick. Handcuffs and ropes held her spreadeagled over the bed. And to complete the picture, a whip tossed apparently casually onto the bed.
I stood back and took a photo and sent a copy to her phone as a memento.
Come the morning, the cleaners would find her, looking exactly like a sex worker who had been robbed by a client.
If the cleaners were kind, they might even find her some clothes to get back home, because I was taking hers with me to drop off at the nearest dumpster.
Vengeance is mine.
