This is really only a fragmentary episode, but an email asked if there was any more from this series — so here is an alternative beginning. Rather OTT and cartoon-like.
It was a plum job.
Her agency told her to go along, even though she told them she wasn’t going to get it. They knew something she didn’t, though — that, whatever they had written on the job description, the three partners of ADD (known to their closer associates as Abuse, Degrade and Defile) wanted a gorgeous young innocent, whom they could mould — and they thought Susan looked the part. They stood to get a large bonus if she was successful.
She thought the office was amazing; a smart, new building, it was nevertheless solid and permanent feeling — very masculine, with rich, deep wood and leather, oozing wealth and class — obviously a firm with money to spend, and great judgement to go with it. Susan was impressed and awed — her certainty that she was not going to be good enough to get the job deepening.
At the same time, she found herself desperately wanting to succeed — her insecurity, her shyness, her weakness, would all be changed, if she had this place as her foundation. She wanted to belong here, in this place in which she felt herself to be prettier, more feminine, safe. And indeed her particular kind of beauty — girlish, with a sweet-sad face, coupled with a slim, elegant body that nevertheless curved in a way which invited attention — was enhanced by the surroundings, her prettiness looking particularly fragile and enticing against the heavy, rich power of the rooms.
She hesitates, her indecision and vulnerability entertainingly obvious to the watchers over the CCTV. Her habitual smile, pretty, but nervous, apologetic, advertising her vulnerability, is both cute and further suggests her suitability for the game they like to play. There are some wolfish grins.
She doesn’t dress in an overtly sexy way — she is far too shy and unsure of herself to do that, but she has great taste, and knows that she is pretty, at least, that her shape is a good feature, so she dresses elegantly.
Ushered in to the board-room, she is a pale, pretty thing against an ocean of red leather and deep brown wood. She feels their eyes on her, and blushes, looks down. Still standing, for they haven’t asked her to sit, she feels her knees trembling slightly, before steeling herself to look up, to smile. She knows that this is what she must expect, at interviews — the men always look at her, and she always finds herself begging them to find her pretty, in her mind. She always ends up feeling dirty if they don’t obviously appraise her, ashamed of thinking all men are like that, of her own dirty mind. Either that, or blushing furiously as she realises they really are staring at her breasts. This morning she blushes, hotly.
She likes them, though. Three well dressed men, all a fair bit older than her, one probably late fifties, the other two forties, all well built, and fit looking, and with that incredible air of assuredness that she likes, that comes from an education that money has bought, and with having exceeded the expectations that education brought. A girl who worked here, under the protection of these men, would be safe from the world outside.
She smiles her little smile, soft, hopeful, and looks down. They still haven’t asked her to sit, or said anything at all. She is feeling increasingly jumpy. She really wants this to go well, but what do they want? Why don’t they speak?
At last, she can’t stand it any more, and, without really thinking, she says:
“Hi!”
Her voice comes out even more huskily than usual, soft and almost pathetic. Some small smiles from across the table, but still they don’t speak! She is blushing more than ever;
“Um .. May .. may I sit down?”
She can’t stand still, one foot lifts, twists, unaware of just how sexy, how inviting this looks — she hasn’t done it on purpose. She really is just naturally sexy.
The senior one speaks;
“We prefer you like this — will you mind standing for us?”
She is so grateful for a spoken word, that she answers without thinking about how odd this request is;
“No .. no, of course not.”
Another pause, then the one on the left speaks;
“You’re exceptionally pretty, Susan; you have a very attractive figure, and you dress well, if a little boringly. You have good qualifications, but weak experience, and some rather half-hearted recommendations.”
Susan visibly pales; her lip trembles, she catches it in her teeth. She can’t think of anything to say. At last, weakly, she says;
“I .. I always try hard .. to .. to please.”
She cannot make herself meet their eyes, as all the interview technique books say you must. She keeps trying to look directly at them, but cannot keep it up, and drops her eyes again. This sets her pretty eyelashes fluttering. She knows she is failing — she can feel herself becoming less and less adult; all she wants is to ask them, like a little girl, if she can’t, please, pretty please, have the job? She’d — she blushes again at the thought — she’d probably ending up letting one of them fuck her, she thinks — be the stereotype sexy secretary. She wouldn’t mind, she realises — not here. Except .. except there are three of them, all looking at her in that way. And only one job. The blush deepens; she feels her heart pattering away. Successful corporate types don’t blush all the time, stare at the floor. She bites her lip.
“We’re certainly pleased to hear that. Eagerness to please is a key requirement. The job here is not highly demanding — we have Norah for that side of things, but we do require exceptional willingness to serve. We are looking for someone who can be elegant and glamorous, very beautifully behaved. We have a number of very powerful and demanding clients. They like beauty. They like beautiful girls who are prettily behaved, and eager to please.”
More silence. Susan cannot think of anything to say. She blushes again.
“Would you like that sort of job? To be decorative, eager to please, not have anything much to do? Would that suit you?”
“Um .. I .. I suppose ..”; she stops; can she really say yes to this? On the other hand, she finds she doesn’t want to say no, because that is not what he wants to hear, because that will be the end of her lovely little fantasy of working here; she swallows, steadies herself;
“I mean yes. Yes, definitely.”
“Excellent — please remember that decorative is what we are looking for, and make sure to hold yourself prettily at all times. Now, tell me; are you discreet? A quiet girl, or a party girl, always out on the town?”
“Oh .. oh, I am fairly quiet, really. I don’t go out much.”
“Do you have a boyfriend? A gang of girls you go out with?”
“No .. no .. nothing .. nothing like that.”
How can they ask such questions? Why is she answering them? Why does she simply want to say .. and then, she is saying it;
“Sir. Sirs. I .. I really like it here. .. I want to be here, to come here every day. It’s perfect. I .. will do .. I mean .. I don’t mind if ..” she tails off, blushing crazily. What has she said? That will be it — they’ll be asking her to leave. She doesn’t even know really what she has meant.
There is a long, long pause, which the men enjoy, and which is hell for Susan.
Then;
“Well, that is interesting to hear — I’m sure it was sincerely meant, and it’s always nice to see enthusiasm. I .. gentlemen? Yes, I think we’ve heard enough for today. That will be all. Thank you”
And, in response to some subtle signal, the older woman, Norah, comes into the room and gently ushers her out.
She’s blown it.
Susan is on the verge of tears, trembling a little. She tries to pull herself together. After all, she had known she wouldn’t get the job. there will be other jobs. She tries to smile at Norah;
“It’s .. lovely here. . A lovely place to work. You’re very lucky.”
A silence. Norah doesn’t smile in the least, but she is looking calmly and steadily at Susan;
“You like it here, do you?”
“Yes! Oh Yes — it seems marvellous — after all those soul-less offices — a place with character .. and .. and such .. strong .. men to work for. But .. I’d better go — I .. I fluffed it — they don’t want me.”
“Perhaps. Listen; here’s my card. If you get called for a second interview, ring me. I may be able to help.”
“Do .. do you think there’s a chance?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps. Goodbye, now — I have work to do, and another candidate is due soon.”
And so Susan wanders home, to replay every awkward second of the interview in her mind a hundred times, to dream about the one on the left — the really handsome one, who had said she was pretty, and to wonder what she had really meant when she had said ‘she wouldn’t mind if…’
She is utterly shocked when the agency call her, and tell her she has been asked to attend for a second interview at ADD.
After an hour or more, she finally gets up the nerve to call Norah.
“Ah yes, Susan. Well, the first thing I need to tell you is that this isn’t for a permanent position. They haven’t found a candidate they really like yet. But they are re-interviewing a couple of girls for a temporary role. Would that be acceptable to you?”
“Yes! Oh .. yes .. of course. Anything.”
“A simple, ‘Yes Madam’ or ‘No Madam’ will do”
“Ah .. yes, Madam.” even on the end of a telephone line, in her own flat, Susan is easily cowed.
“Better. Now, are you interested in some advice?”
“Oh .. yes, please”
and, after a long, expectant pause;
“Oh! Sorry! I .. I mean yes, please, Madam. Sorry!”
“I’ll come to your flat this afternoon, and help you pick out an outfit. I have the address.”
And she rings off, without asking whether this is acceptable to Susan, and indeed, the girl doesn’t even think to be put out, in such a panic is she. Her flat is clean and tidy — it always is, she’s that kind of girl; but it is rather small and cheap, and she is ashamed that Norah from that glossy, immaculate world should see it, and so she tidies and cleans more, rushes out to buy flowers, terrified lest she be out when N arrives, even though it is still only 11.
Fidgeting, she thinks to get out a few possible outfits, lays them on the bed, decides she need another shower, then wonders whether she should wear the outfit she prefers, to show initiative, or .. or ..
And so it is that she is in her dressing gown, and otherwise naked, when the bell rings, on the dot of noon. She dares not keep N waiting, and so she opens the door, blushing.
N’s look at her is strange, un-nerving, and she simpers, emits a silly giggle, desperate that she has ruined her chances already;
“Oh! oh. I’m .. I’m ..” — she tails off.
The other just looks, expectant.
“I .. I mean, I was just. Just getting dressed..” — she ends, lamely.
It seems to satisfy Norah, who had wondered for a second whether she had judged the girl wrongly — whether she was in fact, a practiced tart, and had deliberately answered the door in a state of undress. But she now understands the truth, and is pleased to discover that the girl is as vulnerable and insecure as she had gauged. Not to mention just as pretty as she has remembered.
Which is good luck for Susan — or bad luck, depending on the point of view, because, once the partners have decided which girls they like, it is Norah’s job to narrow down the selection and make the final choice.
“Indeed. Are you going ask me to come in?”
“Oh! Oh sorry! .. I mean .. erm .. sorry, Madam”
“That’s better. You will address me properly at all times. I am not here as your friend, but as someone serving the interests of ADD. Do you understand?”
Susan is trembling, frightened; N is doing this deliberately, she can tell, but it works nevertheless;
“Yes, Madam .. I .. I understand.”
It doesn’t help feeling so vulnerable, naked under the ridiculous fluffy robe, with the childish cartoon characters.
“Do you have some things laid out for me to look at?”
Pink with embarrassment and anticipation, Susan just nods, and indicates the bedroom.
“So, this is your favourite, the best you can do?”
N does not sound encouraging.
“Y .. Yes, , Madam.”
“Well, put them on, then.”
And when Susan hesitates, blushing again, twitching with nerves;
“Yes, dear, you’re right — I am going to see your breasts, and your legs, and your thighs and your tummy. And I am going to be asked about them back at the office. I can leave now, if you are unhappy about this.”
A long pause, Susan blushes, looks down, then up again, meeting N’s eyes. The older woman’s expression is not harsh, but open — wanting an honest answer.
“N .. No .. please, Madam. Please don’t go!”
Susan blushes, more deeply, and this time her voice is low, a little husky — they both know that a bridge is being crossed, as the girl, nervously, but as elegantly as she knows how, takes off the dressing gown. That evening, she throws it away. She never wants to be seen in such childish clothes again.
“So if we said that to work here you would need to wear significantly shorter skirts, higher heels, stockings, low cut blouses, to allow Norah to specify your make-up, lingerie, jewellery, hair and so on, you wouldn’t mind that?”
She knows that this is not the sort of thing he should say, at all, that this warning is strong, that she must not ignore it. But instead she hears herself saying;
“No .. no .. I’d be .. happy. .. Sir.”
Smiling, happiness flooding through her, knowing that she would love Norah to tell her what to wear — to be free of all that worry, to know that she was dressed the way they wanted, for it not to be her responsibility. And to wear gorgeous sexy clothes — even if they were a little revealing — couldn’t be a hardship.
“And if it were explained to you that it would be expected of you to learn to curtsey prettily on entering the room, or indeed when any of us comes into the room where you are, to show your panties, to wait until you were acknowledged before lowering your skirt, would that be a problem?”
Her heart skips a beat; she can’t get her breath for a second. She blushes pink, feeling hot, darting a desperate glance at him to see if he is joking, knowing he isn’t, knowing that she cannot say yes to this; she wants to be able to, but it is too much, too much! They can’t ask that of her — it’s not fair! She tries to think of something to say;
“Please .. that .. I .. I don’t know .. if .. if I can do that .. Sirs.”
She is nearly crying. She wants to get this job so much! How can they be so mean?
On the other side of the table, they are feeling confident, enjoying this. They are happy she has not said yes straight away. Tarts and sluts are cheap and plentiful. But a shy, innocent beauty, who doesn’t think she can say yes, is always enjoyable to play power games with.
“Chloe — you don’t mind if I call you Chloe, do you? All the girls who take this position here get called Chloe; we like the name. You’d be fine with that, wouldn’t you?”
She is wrong-footed — what is this about? But she is happy to be able to say yes to something that seems harmless;
“Um .. I .. I guess so. I mean .. Yes, sir.”
Better! Ok, Chloe; here, girls curtsy. If you want to work here, you will want to curtsy. If you don’t, then we can say thank-you and goodbye. But we don’t like to be kept waiting, ever. So, if you want to stay, then flash those lovely legs at us, show us your panties, do your best to look enticing and we can move on. Either you are happy to please us, or you’re not.”
At that point, Susan realises, that this curtsy is symbolic, that, once she crosses this line, there will be no end of crossings, but she knows that she wants to be here — at some level, she is even relieved that this has come so soon- there had to be something. She tells herself she is leaving, feels herself getting ready to move, turn away from them.
And then, from nowhere, comes a ridiculous, girly little half-giggle;
“I .. I, um ..” her hands are moving toward her skirt hem, almost as if out of conscious control.
A tear glistens at her eye, but she blinks it away, smiling a helpless little smile as she meekly does the prettiest, sexiest curtsey she can manage — knowing that to do it badly will see her degraded and still rejected (she would rather degrade herself and be accepted, she finds), slowly lifting the miniskirt hem to reveal first, her smooth thighs above the lace stocking tops, then the enticing little panties that N has told her to wear, lifting her left foot and putting the toe to the ground, consequently opening her thighs, slowly and silkily bending her right leg, dipping her hips, her mound pushing gently forward as she does, then raising herself up again.
She urgently needs to know what their faces reveal, but dares dart a quick glance only, and her heart is chilled. They are so cool that they must have seen this a thousand times before. She is just another girl, of course. Of course. And now she is just another girl that shows her nickers on demand.
She is surprised, though, to find that she is exhilarated; her heart is thumping, and a tingle is spreading at her pussy, at her nipples. She is shocked at how much she likes it, how grateful she is to them for pushing her into this. She glances upward — cool, they may be, but they are looking, and they are smiling!
It’s going to happen, she begins to feel it — they are going to push her and push her, and she is going to give, she cannot see how she will resist. Where will it end? She must leave, she must get away!
Then;
“Nice panties. Did you buy them specially for us? “
And, pathetically, she is happy again, happy that they like her panties! Even though they are so obviously intended as a sexual come-on, so blatant, she must now admit;
“Yes .. yes, sir, I did.”
“Well, we certainly approve, and it seems a good time to tell you that the job comes with a generous clothing allowance, so that there is never any reason not to be looking peachy. Much as the view is beguiling, I think you may lower your skirt again. Norah will tell you all the rules, later, if you get the job, but you might want to remember that, as well as curtsying on entering a room, anytime any of us fancies a treat, we’ll just call out ‘Pussy”, and you go right into the curtsy routine. got that?”
“Yes. Yes, sir.” She closes her eyes for a second. How can she just have said yes to that?
“Just one thing — you should do the little routine with the dip at the end, as well — just before you lower your skirt — got it?”
It seems impossible not to agree, now;
“Ye .. Yes Sir”
“OK, let’s try it: pussy!”
And Susan/Chloe has no choice, or feels that way, at least, but to gather her skirt hem once more, and blushingly lift it up, a shy girl lifting her skirt on demand for three strangers, holding herself as prettily as she can, for as long as they want, bubbling over inside with the thought that they must like something about her (even if it is just her legs), or they wouldn’t have asked her to do it again.
“Very good, you may lower your skirt. Excellent — if you get the job, then Norah will coach you on the finer points. Norah will also go over the other rules with you. I believe she has explained to you that we didn’t feel you were worthy of a permanent role here, but that we do have a temporary position available?””
A deliberately harsh way of putting it; the girl visibly winces;
“Yes, sir” the voice very quiet now.
“Good. We hope to have found a girl we like more than you in the next two weeks — it is likely that your employment here will be terminated at that point. Is all of this acceptable to you?”
He is speaking in a calm, almost humorous tone — so at odds with the harshness of what he is saying. It is painfully obvious that he and the others are enjoying this, enjoying rubbing her nose in her own powerlessness. And yet, she doesn’t hate him for it — she understands him perfectly. If he and his partners can build this, from the work they do with just a few helpers, then they must demand the best, at all times. She wants to be the best for them so much it almost hurts, even as she feels certain of her inferiority.
“I .. I suppo .. Yes Sir” — she is all but whispering.
“Good. Now, please tell us, in your own words, why and how much you want to work here.”
She is shocked. It hasn’t seemed that they are interested in anything she might say, apart from “Yes, Sir” — Norah didn’t warn her of this bit. Her mind is blank, panic is rising, until she remembers what she was thinking, only a few seconds before;
“I .. This .. this is the perfect place for me. As soon as I came here I .. I loved your building, the way the rooms are, the way .. the way you have set everything up. I am .. I am .. feel .. wonderful, here. I want to be here. I .. I am full of .. respect for .. for how successful you .. I mean .. what a great firm .. And .. and great, great bosses; a wonderful .. opportunity. And .. and I understand that I’m probably .. probably not .. not good enough for you .. you .. you have to have the .. the highest standards. But I’m going to try — if you give me the chance — I will do .. I really will try to please you all, Sirs. If . if ever there is .. anything .. anything you want me to do .. I mean …”
She trails off — cannot look at them, as she wants to do, because she knows that it is clear to all of them that she has just about told them that they can take liberties with her.
She is in a highly emotional state, but it is not clear to her whether she is sad or happy. Certainly her heart beats fast, her breath is uneven and slightly gasping, so that occasional sharp in-breaths emphasise her remarkable breasts rather effectively.
“Very good — not particularly coherent, but the sentiment sounded right. Well, perhaps you might give us a final curtsey before seeing yourself out and asking Norah to give you some detail. We need to have a conversation and decide what to do. Take that wiggle of your hips slow and deep, would you? Make it look nice and tasty.”
And she does her best, making no pretence about the movement of her hips as an invitation to sex, blushing fierily, tears starting at her eyes, biting her lip, standing, skirt held high, waiting to be allowed to lower it again. Finds herself wondering which one will be first to fuck her.
“Ever been spanked, Chloe?”
She blinks — a long, hard moment; she’s forgotten that they want her to answer to ‘Chloe’. Then, wishing she wasn’t, she answers, quietly; “No .. No, sir.”
“Not yet, you mean,” laughter from the others; “OK, off you go.”
Susan (Chloe — she must try to remember Chloe) didn’t forget to wiggle her hips again as she lowered her skirt, blushing, a girl who flashes her nickers on demand, who has jokes about spanking made at her expense, but who still smiles eagerly. A girl who is in turmoil, one the one hand knowing that to stay here is to be pushed into all sorts of unacceptable vulnerabilities and humiliations, but on the other hand understanding that being treated so is the only way a girl like her will ever get to work here, and finding herself rather more interested in what those humiliations will feel like than she is comfortable accepting.
Her legs are like jelly as she returns to the central space which connects all three offices and the boardroom, where Norah works — where she will work herself! She is looking for somewhere to sit when Norah’s voice catches her up short;
“Am I to take it that you have been dismissed? They don’t want you?”
“Um .. no! I mean, I don’t know .. um .. they asked me to talk to you about .. um ..”
“Enough! Do you want to stay?”
“Yes .. Yes, Madam I .. I do!” Susan/Chloe is surprised to hear herself say it. Seconds before, in her head, she had said no; she had planned to leave, to walk straight out of this place which is getting to her so deeply. But when confronted with the need to actually do it, she finds she cannot.
“Well, you’ve started very badly. I doubt they told you very much in there, but I know they will have told you one rule.”
It takes Susan a few seconds to work it out. N expects her to curtsy — they said to curtsy on entering ANY room. Something rebels in her at the thought of doing it for hard-faced N — it is somehow much more demeaning, much more of an imposition. But N is waiting, unconcerned, but waiting.
At last, blushing, not quite sure why she hasn’t left, Susan does a fairly perfunctory version of the sexy and voluptuous wiggle she has just perfomed in the boardroom, and stands, waiting, skirt up, a little gawkily.
N keeps her waiting a long time. long enough for irritation to build up, and for even meek Susan to begin to feel a little angry, when;
“If you did it as badly in there, Chloe, you may as well leave now. If you did it better in there, you might be in with a chance, but only if you match it or better it now, immediately.” Her voice is calm, casual, but it is clear the words are utterly sincere and serious.
Chloe/Susan blushes hotly, and this time a tear does find its way down her cheek, but she takes a deep breath and manages a fairly smooth and sultry attempt. She is trembling with shame at showing the other woman how abjectly, how sluttishly, she has performed for the partners, and suddenly realises how vulnerable she is to the other woman’s disdain, how completely in her power she will be if she works here, and she suddenly perceives that satisfying the three men might perhaps be the most demanding in a physical way, but that satisfying N, being in her power, will be the real trial. That N is going to dominate her completely. And, there and then, Susan accepts within herself that she is going to allow this — that she is going to become Chloe, relaxes into that knowledge. She is here, her dream. And N is going to make sure she does it well — N will make the hard decisions for her.
Suddenly, she needs to know what is in N’s eyes, and looks up, to be trapped by her cool gaze, trembling, unable to look away, heart thudding.
After a while, the older woman smiles, amused;
“Not bad, for a beginner”; she steps forward, and a cool hand is on Susan/Chloe’s pussy mound, another at her buttock; she freezes, just managing to overmaster her instinct to pull away. A more shocking, but equally strong impulse, is to push herself toward that hand, to get a stronger sensation still. Susan suddenly knows that if N decides to seduce her, she will not be able to resist. She bites her lip, trying to get her mind back into some sort of order. Maybe it will be easier if she can become someone else — become this Chloe — let Chloe be the girl who accepts all this .. all this sexual abuse — because that’s what it is.
“Easy! Easy, girl! I can see we’ll have to do some work with you. I’m going to help you now, to see how to make that wiggle a little more special. Take a deep breath now, calm down, relax. Accept that many, many hands are going to take you up on the offer you so prettily made just now; it will not do to tighten up, to go tense, to flinch. Wiggle again, now, against my hands — get used to them, understand them — offer yourself to them. Remember what you said about yourself — always try to please! Again! Better — a little. Now, this time, as you lower your skirt, you are going to add a little more rotation into the movement of your hips as you bend your knee, let my hands guide you.”
“Well, you may improve, with practice.”
Chloe/Susan is in shock. she cannot believe the intimacy of the moments that have just passed. She cannot cope with the knowledge that Norah must have felt that her sex is warm — hot — and moist too. She knows, too, that she won’t be unhappy, deep down, if Norah wants to touch her again — more appalling knowledge, which she cannot begin to process. She is shaking.
“Would you like to curtsy again for me, right now? With my hands on you?”
Susan/Chloe shakes her head, “Um .. no .. please .. please, Madam”; her eyes are downcast, she is breathing heavily; her breasts move delightfully. N lifts her chin with a finger, looks into her eyes;
“Actually, I think you would; but in fact, it doesn’t matter what you want, does it? If I were to say ‘Pussy!’, you’d have to, wouldn’t you?”
Chloe shuts her eyes, nods, trembling; “Yes .. yes Madam”
A silence, then; “I’ve already said it, girl. Don’t ever keep me waiting. And remember, offer yourself.”
And for the sixth time in twenty minutes, Chloe/Susan is lifting her skirt — only this time it is with two firm, controlling hands at her groin, front and rear, insisting on the most obscene sort of wiggle, slow and beguiling, but at the same time, disappointingly clinical — N is truly trying to teach here — nothing else, apparently. Susan/Chloe doesn’t know if her heart will stand it when N steps back;
“And now, down again — show me you’re getting it.”
And though the tears fall, the curtsy is the most seductive yet.
“Improving, anyway — see that that continues — practice at home, in front of the mirror. Now, generally, you will never sit, while you work here but, as you’re so shaky, would you like to sit here for a little while, and have a drink of water?”
Chloe/susan is about to gratefully accept, when a thought comes to her.
“Um .. M .. Madam. If .. if .. they were to .. to come out, .. maybe .. maybe to offer me the job — they .. I wouldn’t like to be .. to be doing something wrong.”
“Good girl! On the other hand, maybe they would like an opportunity to spank you.”
N is looking directly at Chloe/Susan as the girl turns, shocked, wanting to see that this is a joke, and realising immediately that it isn’t; feeling her heart rate jump, her throat tighten, her knees start trembling again.
It seems important to say something; to register some sort of protest;
“I .. I really don’t ,.. don’t want to .. to be .. spanked”
Could she have said anything weaker? It sounds as if she does want everything else! It also sounds as if she will accept that she will be spanked if they insist. She is blushing, as a small satisfied smile curls N’s lip;
“Well, of course you don’t, you silly girl; after all, that is rather the point, isn’t it? That it should be a punishment — something you want to avoid?”
A long pause; Susan/Chloe begins to understand that she is in quite deep already. She knows she really MUST leave, NOW! But her legs don’t move, and a fierce, burning feeling inside her tells her she will not leave, that leaving would be the worst disaster in her life.
“I .. I mean .. I don’t think I can .. can accept .. ahm, I couldn’t take being spanked.”
N is brisk, light, amused; “That rather remains to be seen, doesn’t it? You seem to respond well to some of the other features of employment here. Anyway, perhaps you won’t do anything wrong!”
Susan/Chloe just stares, feeling her lips tremble; she finds she has to know;
“Will .. will they really .. um .. s .. spank me?”
N reaches out and lifts her chin, catching her gaze;
“Will you resist him, if he wants to?”
At last, Susuan/Chloe’s eyes drop;
“I .. I don’t know .. Madam”.
By which they both know that she means she will not.
“No more questions now; one of the rules here is that girls in your position speak when spoken to, and not otherwise. Understand?”
“Yes, Madam.”
“Very good. Your workstation is here.”
An odd, old fashioned looking desk, like an old clerk’s desk, only in glass and steel, rather high — and instead of a chair, two padded banquettes, about 60cm apart.
“You kneel on those. In other rooms, you stand, or do otherwise, if you’re told, obviously.”
Dubious, but with no other option than to obey, she kneels, thighs spread, back straight. A weird position, actually fairly comfortable, but in the short skirt, with her legs held apart she feels very vulnerable.
“You’ll get used to it, Chloe — and you look ravishing, I must say. If someone comes through and you’re like this, then you need to decide if they want you or not; if they want you, then stand and curtsey. If they’re not really interested in you, then you can lift your skirt while you’re kneeling. They may well ignore you — you will just keep your skirt lifted until they leave the room, or until they ask you to lower it.
“Now, there’s the partners calling, wait here. That’s right, hands at your sides, or behind your back. You should practice standing and kneeling elegantly — it takes a little care.”
And Susan (Chloe! — she must remember!) is left to consider the rollercoaster of a morning. She is simultaneously elated that she has a job at ADD — even if it is only temporary — and deeply unsettled by the things she has been asked to accept — that she has accepted, as part of the price of the job.
She is ashamed and excited by the experience of curtsying — both to the partners and to N. She knows that she is frightened of N, frightened of making a mistake, of doing anything not as the partners want it, in front of her. The partners won’t notice too much, she thinks, as long as she is sexy and smiley with them, and, probably, puts up with being groped all the time she realises she is actually looking forwards to this — other bosses have made her skin crawl, but these guys — well, somehow they deserve to do what they want with her — she finds she accepts — even welcomes, the bargain. But she will have no secrets from N, and, as she is determined to do all she can to be kept on after the two weeks, she knows she must keep N happy.
Of course, the partners are lying when they say she is not good enough — they very much hope she will be the best yet, but the psychology of the thing demands that the girl feel weak, uncertain, all the time
She practices standing and kneeling a few times, getting the hang of it. It feels sexy — it is impossible to ignore the lewd way her thighs spread, the vulnerability of her groin when she is in position. She closes her eyes. How far are they going to push her? She must try to keep a limit. Just saying this to herself makes her realise how weak her resolve is. What is to become of her? She begins to tremble a little.
A click, the door opens, she jumps — it is N, looking at her, one of the partners following. She stands as best she can, and blushing crimson, does her most sensual curtsy yet, which is taken entirely for granted. Except that, as he stands near her, talking to N about some arrangements for afternoon meetings, his hand languidly investigates her exposed crotch, rubbing rather pleasantly through the panties. After a second or two, Chloe (it is definitely easier if she thinks of herself as Chloe at this point) finds herself shifting slightly — opening herself up to his fingers, angling her body toward him. She is rewarded with a brief, amused smile;
“You may move your hips.”
She is being felt up by her new boss, in front of her colleague! And she is holding her skirt up to let it happen, and now, at his request, she is moving to maximise her pleasure in his lazy, proprietorial gropings. She is ready to die of shame. But the other two remain completely calm. After a minute or so, the partner (D1), walks off, without even looking at Chloe, and N nods at her;
You may drop your skirt. You behaved appropriately. Now; the good news is that you’ve got the temporary appointment — if you still want it?”
Chloe is distracted, still trying to come to terms with what has just happened, but she finds herself needing to let N know how much she wants the job;
“Yes! Oh, yes, I .. I really do. Thank you!”
“The bad news is that an important client is in town tomorrow, and the escort we had booked to accompany him to dinner and the theatre has cancelled — she’s still in LA with another client. But that’s not your problem.”
“Now, pretty, listen well; the terms of the position are very simple. We offer a daily rolling contract, that is all. Your job description is also simple: try to give satisfaction to everyone you encounter here at ADD. Pretty smiles, lovely presentation, elegant and attractive deportment, perfect politeness, instant and willing obedience are required at all times — and by everyone we mean everyone. Any failure to give complete satisfaction could mean instant dismissal, with a maximum one day’s pay in hand. Remember — there is no-one less important than you — you are to seek to please everyone you encounter, put what they want above what you want. If a delivery messenger complains about you not thanking him nicely; if the window cleaner complains, saying you didn’t smile at him, you will be liable for dismissal, or disciplinary action. Do you understand?”
Um .. yes — I .. I think so.”
“Yes, Madam, will be enough, thank you! Very well. Each morning you will be here at 7 am, to present yourself to me. If they have asked me to give you a further day’s work, I will inspect your presentation. Poor presentation will result in you being sent home. You will not be paid for that day, even if you are asked to return the following day.”
“Do you understand? Do you accept?”
“Yes .. Yes, Madam.”
“Good. Obviously there are various details, but we can arrange those later. Most importantly, though, is the matter of your dress. You did well with my advice, but our standards here are very high, and the partners have made some specific requests after seeing you this morning. We’re going shopping.”
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