(Huge thanks to @leapservice whose art inspired and accompanies this story.)
Hello Y’All. This is Tina, again. Most of you know me pretty well by now. I have a fairly unique lifestyle with eclectic interests. Some even consider them exotic. Are elaborate remote controlled self-bondage masturbation sessions, followed by detailed published reports posted online something you’d call exotic? More like taboo. Tee Hee! Not that any of you would see it that way. We’re all into our own kinks that somehow or other overlap here in the bondage zone of DeviantArt. It’s our home away from home.
Which is kind of the point I’m working up to, so bear with me. K? K.
Just like Y’All, I got a life away from this wonderland of playful power exchange and dastardly abductions. And in that life, in “real life,” I wear a lot of hats. Sure, one of those is of real life submissive. But that’s mostly relegated to my free time. I’m also a daughter and a sister and a niece. I’m a writer. Not just the bondage stories I publish here either. I’m working on mainstream stuff too! One day Y’All will be able to say, “I knew her back when all she wrote about was getting tied up and stuffed full of toys.” That’ll be fun, right? Lol.
You also know that I’m a certified professional bad ass in real life. And when I say “professional,” I mean that literally. I teach the people that teach the SWAT Teams and Hostage Rescue Teams of local, state and federal law enforcement agencies how to do their jobs with beautifully precise yet thoroughly overwhelming violent force. You ever heard of John Wick? If John Wick were real, I’d have taught him all of those moves.
But like I said, Y’All already knew that about me.
Here’s something else that you probably know about me, but you might have forgotten. Back when I was running my furniture business, I also went to business school. I finished with a master’s degree in accounting. Turns out you don’t need a master’s degree in accounting to keep the books on a one-employee furniture business. But I didn’t want to let it go to waste. So, I started preparing tax returns for people. Just my parents and my siblings at first. Pretty soon, it was friends too. Eventually, I was asked to join the Finance Committee at my church. Come that February, guess who was preparing their charitable organization Form 990 (tax return)? Yeah. This dumb submissive. Hopefully this gets me to cut the line in purgatory and go straight to the pearly gates.
Sorry about the tangent. I’ll get back on point.
The point is, back in May 2024, those last two hats that I wear; accountant and ally to law enforcement, kind of merged together and put me on the strangest path I’ve ever been on. I was asked to find, and neutralize, the Office Brownies!
----------------
I met IRS Supervisory Special Agent Agatha Andrews years ago back when she was still a case working agent. She heard from a colleague at Homeland Security that I was the person to go to for a crash course on firearms marksmanship. Agatha was a brilliant investigator but a fucking lousy shot. She was so bad she was in jeopardy of losing her job in the field and getting assigned to a desk. I helped her out. She didn’t turn into a deadshot, by any means. But she got proficient. And she never had trouble qualifying with her duty weapon again.
Agatha and I had become good friends and stayed in touch over the years. So, it wasn’t necessarily surprising in May 2024 when her name showed up on my caller ID.
“Special Agent Andrews. To what do I owe the honor?” Agatha gave an exaggerated clearing of her throat.
“That’s SUPERVISORY Special Agent, citizen.” We both laughed.
“And right at the end of tax season no less! Aren’t you inundated with tax fraud right about now?” Even though we were only on the phone, I could feel Agatha’s smile dissolve.
“Actually, Tina, we really DO have a bit of a situation. Tax return filings are down. Like, down worse than during COVID. Something has seriously disrupted the tax preparation industry. The country is heading toward MAJOR cash flow problems.” Agatha and I are friendly, but this sounded like something you needed a security clearance to hear about.
“OK. That’s weird. But…why are you telling me?” Agatha inhaled hard before continuing.
“You might be able to help us. Not with this filing season. This season is already fucked. We’ll recover. There’ll be a lot of late payments and a shit ton of extra work, but the Treasury will recoup all the taxes. But we need to deal with the cause of this. We need to start getting ready for next year.” Dang, next year? Whatever this is, it sounds huge.
“Agatha, what makes you think there’s anything I can do to help? What’s even causing the problem??” Agatha released a tired laugh.
“You’re not going to believe me at first, but it’s true. Offices all over the country have been reporting record low productivity. Something is causing huge drops in efficiency. And starting in February, it hit tax preparation firms, HARD! All the big firms started dropping numbers right when they’re usually ramping up. Tax filings were down to a trickle by the April 15 deadline and half the country hadn’t filed yet.” That’s 10’s of millions of tax returns. How?
“It was that widespread?” I still didn’t understand how this was possible or how this could have anything to do with me.
“It was everywhere Tina. And we don’t think it’s over. It’s just gone underground for now. With little “blips” popping up at random offices here and there. Mostly unreported incidents that we capture on surveillance cameras what we installed back before we knew what we were dealing with.” This was starting to sound a little too much like a Bigfoot sighting for me.
“OK. What is it? What did you get on camera?” A file suddenly appeared in my email.
“Just open that video. See for yourself.” I hesitated for a moment and then I clicked the file. As the video loaded, I asked Agatha the million-dollar question.
“What am I looking for here Agatha?” She answered with a voice thick with dread.
“Tina, it’s the Office Brownies…”
----------------------
The top of the video feed had the date, May 7, 2024. It was after regular hours; 9:30 PM. The beautiful raven-haired clerk was working late, doing the kind of end of the season grunt work the partners couldn’t be bothered with. They were on their way to Cancun to reward themselves with golf and all-inclusive rum served up in hollowed out coconuts. They left the sexy bimbo behind so fast she didn’t even realize her “microskirt” wasn’t scoring points with the no-longer-there Boy’s Club that signed her paychecks.
There was no audio on the tape. But there must have been a loud noise. The lone female pivoted so hard she almost came out of her completely impractical heels. She approached the copier. She looked unsure. Nervous. What happened next was an explosion of kinetic energy!
About a half-dozen “imps,” each about one foot tall, sprang out from under furniture, on tops of shelves and from somewhere off-camera. They had pale green skin. Their ears were pointy, as were their bald heads. They had villainous bushy eyebrows and sharp, jagged teeth. In an ironic fashion statement, they were each dressed in worn out blue business suits. Only, they were barefoot, exposing their snaggle toothed toenails. Their loosely tied neck ties whipped around like capes as they converged on the terrified damsel. These must be THE OFFICE BROWNIES!!
With astounding dexterity and incredible synchronization, each brownie performed their piece of the choreography like a seasoned dancer. Simultaneously, brownies leapt on her. She was driven forward and down onto the copier in front of her as her panties were yanked down around her ankles, causing her to trip forward. Her hands reach out to break her fall but were each intercepted by a waiting brownie who capitalized on her surprise to fold her unresisting arms up behind her back. Other brownies tossed lassos around her head and her now reverse-prayered hands. One brown pulled the noose tight forcing her flat onto the copier. Other brownies tightened the ropes binding her wrists and added more loops of rope around her arms, above and below her triceps. She only even started to resist as the long rope looped all the way around the back of her legs and the copier, securing her off-balanced body against it. She was madehelpless before she even had a chance to fight back, all the while, the brownies laughed and howled at their victim’s predicament.
The now shocked damsel opened her mouth to scream. Expecting this reaction, the brownies forced one of he high heeled shoes into her gaping mouth, stifling the cry before it could escape. They tied it, causing it to invade deeper into her mouth. Her terrified eyes were quickly covered in a blindfold that might have been a scarf.
With their victim now helpless secured, the brownies all seemed to slow down and savor their victory. They weren’t done tormenting the girl yet. They owned her and they were going to make sure she knew that. Brownies, reached their tiny clawed hands between the girl’s chest and the copy plate. One all but crawled up under her cleavage. It was soon clear they were accessing and undoing her buttons. The girls’ blowse was soon opened up and pulled out to either side. A pair of office scissors made short work of the straps of her bra which was tossed into a nearby shredder, getting partially chewed up before jamming the device.
To her credit, she was now struggling mightily. Her head jerked from side to side and her fingers flailed about. The brownies responded by adding more ropes and tethering her hair back to her wrists, causing her to arch her neck painfully. She tried to rear up off the copier but the brownie with the noose would have none of that and lowered all of his weight, tightening the noose so that it now visibly compressed her neck. She collapsed back down onto the copier just as a brownie at the controls set the machine to start running off infinite prints of her large, flattened breasts.
All of her fight was now gone. She appeared to be sobbing, head down. Her only movement was to occasionally shift her weight as her pantyhosed bare foot would slide out from under her. And even then, her ordeal did not appear to be over, as a brownie came sprinting from off screen around behind her carrying a long, phallic object. Tina couldn’t tell if the object was a sex toy or some other random office supply, but whatever it was, the brownie immediately began inserting it into her helplessly exposed vagina, twisting it and shrieking with delight.
-----------------
Pretty fucking nuts, right Y’all! Just so you know, I didn’t believe Agatha straight away. I figured this had to be some kind of Tik Tok video or video game or something other than a real video. That was totally bonkers! Something about her tone and her insistence finally got me convinced that she at least believed the fantasy tale she was telling me. I agreed to look into it. Of course, I couldn’t count on Agatha for anything from here on. I was now and unsanctioned government operative. I was unfettered and unrestrained by the constraints of the bureaucratic machine that was not designed to deal with tiny, malevolent imps. But I was also on my own with no back up and limited resources. That last part probably should have bothered me more than it did. The idea that there was danger never even registered with me. I should have been careful, but I wanted to be fast instead.
As I predicted, the Brownies never wanted their party to end. With a little searching through the “dark web,” I was eventually able to find their website. They had pay per view of the surveillance feed I’d already seen. They also had other office abduction scenes. LOT’S of them. Presumably all shot during filing season. Each poor girl made helpless and uncomfortable and humiliated in ever more deplorable predicaments. They even held silent auctions for locks of hair and panties, allegedly stained from each “whores” lustful juices. The bids were high enough to make me embarrassed to be a human being. Disgusting!
About the only precaution the brownies took were that they used a kind of code when describing the scenes. They referred to them as “drawings” or “animations,” as thought they weren’t real video. Their rabid fans posted comments lauding them for their cruelty and creativity.
I decided to make contact. I’d just make a quick comment and see if anyone responded. I didn’t even bother to create a separate profile. I just logged in as a guest using my regular email address.
“What a fun illustration!!” Simple and fast. I’d check back later and….wait! A response already from someone named “Leapservice.”
“tnx, I had fun drawing it. I think it shows.”
The sick bastard. Damn straight it shows! But who was I chatting with? One of the brownies? Or maybe someone else. There’s no way to know, other than to stay engaged. I’d monitor this website and try again next time they post a video.
And unfortunately for another poor office worker, I wouldn’t have to wait very long….
TO BE CONTINUED……………