"So, did the temp agency explain the requirements of this job?" Ms. Zoe asked.
"Well, actually they were pretty vague," Thomas replied, his eyes curiously wondering the background, wondering why the interview was being conducted in a hotel room. "But I told them I'm willing to do anything."
Ms. Zoe smiled, "That's good…that you're willing to do
anything
. Because that is the job in a nutshell - you will be doing anything, and everything, that I tell you to do. And whatever that may be is subject to my personal whims. There are no specific duties involved, just whatever I
feel
like making you do. In any case, you will do whatever I want you to do without question."
"Come again?" Thomas raised a suspicious eyebrow. Something about the way she'd said that didn't sit right with him. She was smiling, but her words, and her voice, were cold…sinister…devious even.
"Let's just cut through the bullshit, shall we?" Ms. Zoe said, icily, "I've dealt with men like you before. The temp agency told me all about you. You're a convicted felon on parole and they can't find you a job anywhere because of it. And let's face it, with unemployment through the roof, employers can be very picky about who they hire. Bottom line is, no one is going to hire a piece of shit like you. And without a job, you are in violation of your parole and you will go back to prison. Isn't that right?" Ms. Zoe grinned devilishly.
Thomas hung his head low, taken aback by her affront. "Yeah, that about sums it up I guess."
"That makes me your only hope," Ms. Zoe stood up and looked down upon him. "So plain and simple, your ass is mine,
bitch
."
"Bitch?" Thomas whined incredulously. "Why are you…"
"Shut up!" She cut him off mid-sentence with a firm slap across the face. "That's right, I called you a
bitch
." She gripped a fist full of his hair and yanked his head back to force his eyes up at her, "And if you don't like it you can walk out the door right now. Enjoy your prison cell. If not, then accept it - you are my bitch. Understand?"
"Yes," Thomas nodded submissively. He had no choice and they both knew it.
Ms. Zoe took a step back and gave him the once over, seemingly surmising just exactly how far he could be pushed. She looked at him the way a child looks at a new toy on Christmas morning…but she was far more calculated than a child. She had plans for him and he could see it in her eyes.
Simultaneously, Thomas attempted to size her up as well. But all attempts to delve into the inner workings of her mind were thwarted by her distracting sex appeal. He was fearful, intimidated, worried what injustices and disrespect he may be forced to suffer at the hands of his oppressive new boss. His circumstances left him helpless and at her mercy, an unfamiliar feeling that was turning his stomach in knots.
But despite all his turmoil, all he could ponder at the moment was whether or not the silky stockings that hugged her legs were pantyhose or thigh-highs. Thigh-highs he guessed, she didn't seem like the pantyhose type. And did they have the stay up tops or were they held in place by a garter belt? Her skirt was just short enough that he thought if she moved just right he might catch a glimpse.
He shook his head in frustration, cursing himself for being so shallow. There were a hundred more important questions he should be asking himself right now, but he couldn't. Never mind her bitchy attitude and cold remarks - she'd just referred to him as her bitch
and
slapped him across the face five minutes after making his acquaintance - he was smitten with her.
She was sexy in spite of her pseudo-conservative attire. Her top clung to her like a second layer of skin and was unbuttoned low enough to dare eyes to wonder but still left much to the imagination. Her skirt was too long to be slutty but short enough to make him hope for a glimpse of naked flesh above her stockings. Her heels were open toed. Her appearance said she was someone to be taken seriously and someone who had a naughty side all at the same time.
"If you accept my terms of employment…that you are my bitch to do with as I please, then lets get you trained in properly." Ms. Zoe sneered, "First of all, I have a specific dress code in mind for you.
This
is not acceptable." She tugged at his collar. "Take it off."
"The shirt?" Thomas asked.
"Everything. Strip, bitch!" She demanded. Thomas hesitated for a moment and was promptly slapped across the face. "Don't make me repeat myself, bitch. Get naked,
now
!"
Hoping to avoid another stinging slap, he nervously and clumsily discarded his clothes. Instantly he found himself feeling self conscious and humiliated, standing naked in front of his fully clothed female boss.
She circled him like a shark, looking him over, giggling to herself, giving him a hard smack on his bare ass each time she passed behind him. "You're even more of a bitch than I thought, Thomas," Ms. Zoe mused, slapping him between the legs. "What the hell is that!?" She laughed.
"You mean my cock?" Thomas felt himself turning red in the face.
"Oh that's not what I would call it," She chuckled. "This stupid little thing is not a cock. You call yourself a man?"
"Well…I …I"
"Are you married, Thomas?" Ms. Zoe asked coyly.
"Yes," He nervously responded.
"Your wife fucks other men," She said, smiling.
"What!?" His face lit up with anguished surprise at her crass comment.
"Well she doesn't have sex with
you
, does she? I can't imagine how she would!"
Thomas hesitated only a moment and was quickly slapped and instructed to answer the question. "N…No. Not in a while now."
Ms. Zoe grinned. "Because you're not even a man. You must know that you cant please a woman with a pathetic, tiny little cock like that. She's probably lying on her back right now, spreading her legs for a real man with a real cock. She knows what a pathetic, sissy little bitch you are, even if she doesn't tell you."
"My…my wife loves me," Thomas defiantly insisted.
Ms. Zoe laughed, "Yes, I'm sure, the way someone loves a puppy, something so weak and helpless like you. Not the way a woman loves a real man. She pities you I'm sure, while she finds other men to satisfy her the way a man is supposed to, the way you can't. This job is going to be good for you, Thomas, you're going to learn to accept being the sissy you really are."
"But I am not a," His protest was cut short by a swift slap across the face.
"Shut up, bitch," She silenced him. "Rule number one in this job is that you do whatever I tell you without question or hesitation. You seem to be having a hard time with that. Rule two is don't
ever
fucking argue with me!"
"But!"
"Shut up!" Ms. Zoe slapped him again. "Do not speak to me unless asked a question or instructed to do so. Period. I'm starting to wonder if you really want this job. Should I send you home and call your parole officer?"