Amanda Williams was beautiful. She had small, firm breasts and achingly long legs that often made you wonder how they would feel wrapped around your hips. In her stilettos and tight, form-fitting dresses, she was a paragon of feminine grace. She had to be-- she was the owner and CEO of Milking Solutions, Inc., the largest company in the world.
Despite being one of the most powerful companies on the planet, Milking Solutions Inc was a furtive affair. No one knows what went on in their massive, trillion-dollar complexes and facilities located all across the world, mostly in extremely isolated and rural areas. They were heavily-guarded, with satellite images raising suspicions that those high concrete walls, barbed wire fences, and watchtowers were meant more to keep people in than to keep them out.
Several inquiries were made by international organizations and the US government, but they died out almost as quickly as they had arisen. The politicians and congressmen who had raised the issue disappeared overnight and were never heard from again. From then on, Milking Solutions only grew, and grew, and grew, until their political power rivaled even the strongest of nations.
There was only one odd thing about the company: it was run exclusively by women. No men were allowed within their compounds on a privileged capacity. Their guards, employees, researchers, secretaries, and managers were all women, and all seemed to live on the compounds where they worked. They were certainly big enough.
I was a corporate spy by the name of Andrew Miller. I was twenty-three, and had grinded the corporate ladder obsessively until I had attained a position of a senior level manager for my tech company. In two weeks, however, Milking Solutions was going to aquire my company for a ridiculously low price. The higher-ups hadn't told me why. They just said, in a panicked, enigmatic email, that they needed to do something fast before their company went under, and had assigned me to this job.
I took a deep breath. On this cold February night, I was going to meet with Amanda Williams--the great woman herself--and try to extract as much compromising information as possible. A tiny microphone was attached to the lapel of my suit, the wire running down the side of my hip to a tape recording device that fit neatly against my outer thigh.
An impossibly long black limousine pulled up to the curb of my apartment building. One of the back doors opened, revealing a deceptively spacious area with plush white leather seats that looked thick enough to engulf a man to his neck, a side compartment, and Amanda Miller. She wore her signature pageboy haircut, her lips taut and thin and bright red--as if they had been cut by a blade. Her brown eyes flicker to the seat next to her.
"Get in," she says tersely.
I had never met Amanda Miller in the flesh before. She looked impossibly intimidating, her skin seeming to emnate with an aura of pure, unadultered feminine dominance. I linger on the sidewalk, too shocked to speak. Already, I can feel a hot blush creeping up my throat and onto my cheeks. Why am I so embarassed? I barely even know her.
"You gonna stand there all day or are you going to come inside where it's warm?" she says.
Reluctantly, I duck inside the limousine. I close the door behind me, hearing an imperceptible clicking noise as the door lock snaps shut automatically. In any other case this would have caused alarm bells to go off in my head, but I figured company owners needed their privacy, after all. Or maybe I was just being paranoid.
The limousine is luxuriously comfortable. The windows are tinted pitch-black from the outside, but from the inside I can view the world through a dim blue shade. Not that there's much to see, of course. It's the middle of the night. Amanda Williams wears a tight leather skirt, high heels, and a long-sleeved red blouse that clings smoothly to her skin. She lifts her hand and makes a gesture to the driver up front. The car begins to move at once. Then she settles comfortably in her plush seat.
"So, you must be this new manager everyone's been talking about... Andrew Miller," Amanda says.
"You've done your research," I say casually.
Amanda smirks in a way that seems both unsympathetically cruel and gracefully attractive. "I always do my research, Andrew," she says, taking my hand in hers. I look at her. Is she coming on to me?
"You're the newest one on your floor," Amanda says. "Or so I've heard. They say you like to do things differently, that you have a certain way of operating your departmental unit. Tell me more about that, Andrew."
Graciously, I explain to her the inner workings of how I did things, making sure not to reveal too much information while I tried to get my bearings. I was supposed to be asking her the questions--not the other way around. She's throwing me off my game, but I couldn't refuse her. She might get suspicious, so I obliged her.
I talked for about ten minutes as we drove through the city. All the while, Amanda nodded, listened, and asked me questions. She seemed to genuinely enjoy speaking to me, if not to get closer to me than simply for the sake of business.
"That was fascinating, Andrew," Amanda says, tilting her head curiously. "But I'm afraid we'll have a quick interruption. I hope it won't bother you at all. I need to pick up two clients of mine."
"No problem," I say, nodding eagerly without even realizing I was doing it. I was nervous--terrified, in fact. Here I was, speaking to the most powerful women on the planet, and now she was going to invite her clients over to effectively join our conversation. I have no idea who they would be, but I figure this could be a great opportunity to glean some extra information.
We pull over at a hotel. "Scoot over, sweetie," Amanda says, smiling at me for the very first time. "It's going to get crowded real soon."
I open my mouth, close it. This was a limo, and it seemed strange that her clients should sit inside our area when there were plenty of other seats to choose from. But things seemed to be going well, and I had to make her trust me. I just had to wait until she let her guard down.
I scooted over to Amanda's side, feeling the firm softness of her thigh pressing against mine. The door opens. Two disarmingly attractive women duck inside, wearing thick fur coats that concealed their bodies. Even so, they had enormous, broad-shouldered frames and voluptuous breasts that were each nearly bigger than my head. The two Amazonian goddesses pushed their way inside, immediately cramping up the seating area until the place seemed tiny. They giggled, muttered apologies, their smooth, high voices dripping with honey.
Amanda rolls her eyes. "Why don't you sit between them, Andrew? Honestly, I'm starting to get a bit claustrophobic."
"Yes, of course," I say hastily, not yet realizing I had stepped into a situation I would soon not be able to get out of. Amanda climbs to the seat facing across from me and nodded to me reassuringly. Blushing with embarassment, I clamber over the log-sized thigh of one of her 'clients' and sat down between them, positively dwarfed. It's then when I notice they are both wearing boots with stiletto heels, the black leather shining with an almost sinister venom. I could feel myself growing tighter and tighter inside my pants. Stop, I think. This isn't appropriate. Painstakingly, I try to will my erection away, but it's nearly impossible. Amanda must have arranged this on purpose, just to humiliate me. But that was odd, too--these clients of hers looked more like call girls than businesswomen.
Amanda pulls out a clipboard. She taps her pen against her lower lip, staring at me brightly.
"Andrew, I suppose I should introduce my clients to you before we go on, that's Chastity, and that's Kitty," she says, dropping her pen in each of their directions. "Say hello, girls."
Chastity sat next to my left. She has long, straight platinum blonde hair that goes down to the small of her back, and soft, heart-shaped lips framed by the face of an angel. She smiles warmly, placing an enormous, manicured hand on my thigh. I shift away from her uncomfortably. Amanda definitely arranged this on purpose. Kitty sandwiches me snugly on the other side. She has wavy, lustrous black hair that pooled around her thick shoulders and a tall, stunningly attractive face with narrow eyes and high cheekbones.
