The situation couldn't be more dire; the billion-dollar company is still afloat but just barely, and anxious shareholders are demanding immediate, decisive action.
True fact: almost all Chief Executive Officers of major corporations are either sociopaths or psychopaths. Not a condemnation, those are the kinds of decisionmakers you need at the top--pure, coldblooded calculators who analyze only with their reptilian brains.
Which is to say, that most commentators and pundits are expecting a closing of storefronts throughout the country and a dispassionate culling of the workforce.
The CEO in question, however, is of a different mind altogether. Forecasts are indeed bleak but the company's allegiance belongs to its loyal employees first and foremost, especially in times like these.
Which is why, I'm awakened at 3am this fine Sunday morning...
My bio: I have a graduate degree in psychology and, already at the tender age of 27, am regarded as one of the finest crisis management consultants in the industry.
Not bragging, I've been featured in magazine articles from 'Hotshots Under 30' to 'Young Women Breaking the Mold' to 'The Top 100 Emerging Leaders.'
By the time I've showered and had my first cup of coffee, my inbox is already inundated with every conceivable thing I might need to know about the current situation.
I digest everything then call him precisely at 8am to introduce myself and go over the particulars. He agrees to wear his favorite business suit and arrive my place within the hour.
He is startled when he first lays eyes on me, then actually gushes that the pictures he had found earlier on the internet had certainly not done me justice.
Yeah, I think to myself, big difference between me dressed in business attire and me wearing a skimpy dress that's really more negligee. I thank him for the compliment, nonetheless.
He follows me into my living room; I sit on my chaise lounge and direct him to the nearby sofa where a stack of papers awaits his attention.
The conditions are pretty clear: he is here to undergo a series of tests I've designed to test his emotional fortitude under extremely stressful conditions. There's also a non-disclosure agreement and a confidentiality clause.
He finishes reading, looks at me with a studious gaze, then pulls a pen out of his pocket so he can sign and/or initial in about a dozen places.
He hands me the paperwork; I notice he's already nervous--that's to be expected. I review to ensure everything is in order then smile up at him...
Me: "Get on your knees."
He receives my command as though I had just slapped him in the face. I don't repeat my words, just stare into his eyes so he can see I'm beyond serious. He obeys and kneels before me.
I tell him we are about to begin our first exercise; he nods his head. I take a moment to admire his fine Italian suit--definitely House of Brioni with a price tag well over 10,000 dollars. I do like this guy's style.
Me: "Crawl into the kitchen on your hands & knees. Find a pot, fill it with warm water, add some dish soap then carry it back over to me on your knees."
I expect some resistance but no, to my surprise he dutifully obeys. Once he's returned, I dangle my feet out in front of his face then tell him to remove my shoes and socks.
He acts nonchalant as he unties my laces and pulls my shoes off...at the sight of my pink girly socks though, he freezes up a bit because I've begun to wiggle my toes in a mesmerizing way.
Me: "Take your jacket off and spread it out on the ground in front of me there."
He doesn't stand...knows full well I hadn't given him permission for that...but nonetheless manages to free himself.
I tell him to remove my socks...he exhales hard as he does so...I see sweat beginning to form on his brow.
Him: "I understand...this is a lesson right out of the Bible...I'm the Boss but I need to demonstrate that I'm not above doing menial tasks."
Me: (not exactly right, but he's in the ballpark anyway) "You catch on quick; I like that. Now go fetch that red bag over by the fireplace...literally bite into the handle and carry it back here."
He scampers off like a puppy dog then returns with my bag securely clutched in his mouth. My feet are now delightfully sliding all over the divine inner lining of his fancy coat. He doesn't dare protest.
Me: "There's a jar of blackberry jam in that bag...use your hands and smear it all over my foot."
No hesitation, as soon as he's opened the jar, his right-hand dives completely in and pulls out a huge fistful of stickiness. I raise my foot; he props it up with his clean hand...then approaches his task like a pastry chef putting frosting on a cake.
Me: "Well done. Okay, so now I'm going to give you 2 minutes to completely clean up that mess you just made."
He looks over and begins reaching for the pot--"Stop!" I bellow at him. He freezes... then I tell him he can only use his mouth.
He holds his breath, but doesn't move.
Me: "I sincerely hope you aren't going to give up already. Trust me, this is for your own good."
I'm soon quite positive he doesn't have a foot fetish...no, not by the way he is gingerly licking here and there. It's clear he's always been the alpha-male...submissive is not a word in his vocabulary.
Me: "Close your eyes...and allow yourself to go with the flow. I am your muse, your goddess...now worship me."
I watch in wonder as he begins to lose all semblance of self-control; I also see a prominent bulge appear and begin to grow in size.
After 15 minutes, I tell him to stop. He looks up at me in hopes that he has found favor in my eyes. I reward him with a smile.
Me: "Unbutton your shirt, take your belt off...then pull your pants and underwear down to the ground around your knees."
His actual words are left unspoken but his eyes begin to plead 'don't make me do this...'
I allow some time to pass, just enough so he can get his hopes up, then I snap my fingers at him. He knows his objection has been overruled; soon his erect cock is the elephant in the room... and it's visibly pulsating and slightly bobbing up and down.
I slowly move my foot to his undercarriage, where I begin to alternate between lightly squishing his balls and kicking them upwards so they bounce off my toes.
