Office slut

‘God, Kimmie, how did it happen?’

Kimberly smiled a little at Sarah’s expression: after Kim’s little revelation she’d seen amusement on her friend’s face... until she realised that Kim wasn’t kidding... followed by horror, disgust, then sympathy... and now that finally seemed to be giving way to curiosity. Taking a moment to sip her latte, Kim sighed, leant back in her chair, crossing her slender, well-toned, legs and glanced around the up-market coffee shop.

‘Well,’ she replied as Sarah leaned forward, perhaps just a little too eager to hear the tale, ‘I guess it started like most of these things do...’ Kim began to let her mind slip back in time as she recalled that first day at Pearce, Kane, and Hart, ‘... with good intentions. You recall how messed up the law was concerning the whole sex industry thing not so long ago? It was legal to be paid to star in a pornographic film, but not to just accept money for sex... that sort of thing. There was that big campaign to get the sex trade legalised – all that stuff about protecting those who worked in the industry, the way they spun it as empowering women, right?’

‘Sure,’ Sarah nodded, brushing a loose strand of red hair out of her dark green eyes and behind her ear, adding with a cynical sneer, ‘but I’m pretty sure that legalisation stuff only got passed so that the government could tax the prostitutes...’

Kim laughed,

‘Yes, you’re probably right; still... that’s where it all really began...’

‘Kimberly... Clarke?’ the middle-aged secretary peered up at Kim over the top of her horn-rimmed glasses, ‘Seriously?’

Kim sighed and forced a smile,

‘Yes, I know,’ she replied, ‘my parents didn’t even realise until I started school and the teasing began... Kimberly was my maternal grandmother’s name, and...’

‘Whatever,’ the woman dismissed the rest of Kim’s tale of childhood woes with a wave of her hand, which Kim was extremely grateful for, ‘you can go in and see Mister Pearce now, Miss Clarke.’

‘Thank you.’

Kim took a deep breath to steady her nerves, reminded herself that she had the right qualifications, the right attitude and drive, had every reason to get the job...  she only had to not mess up this one interview, and she’d be in the door of one of the best legal firms, on the ladder and on her way to the top. To get this far into the selection process meant that she had as much... if not more... chance than anyone else. All she had to do was not mess it all up...

Taking one more deep breath, smoothing away an imagined crease on the charcoal grey skirt of her best business suit, Kim ran her fingers through her long, straight, brunette hair, put on a smile she hoped would strike the right impression of confidence without coming across as cocky, and walked through into the large corner office.

Mister Pearce was one of the senior partners of Pearce, Kane, and Hart and, well into his sixties, the only founding member still at the firm. When Kim first laid eyes on him, he struck her as a somewhat grandfatherly figure – a small man with a shock of white hair, clad in an expensive but wrinkled suit, who none-the-less managed to produce the natural aura of quiet confidence one only every really found in people who knew just how good they were at what they did, and had no more need to prove it to anyone. When he spoke to her his tone was both kind and gentle, which helped her relax a little as the interview progressed, yet the questions he asked proved he was still sharp as a razor. Kim imagined that he’d be more than a match for any of the younger lawyers who dared to go up against him, and as their conversation went on she found her respect for the man growing even more than she’d already felt from his reputation alone. Maybe that added to her shock when she read the section of the employment contract he’d handed her dealing with sexual activities?

Feeling her heart leap to her throat, Kim blinked, re-read the section, stole a furtive glance at Pearce (who was, by then, absent-mindedly looking out of the window, across the city, as he patiently waited for her to finish reading) and re-read the section for a third time. Still finding it hard to believe, she re-read the sections of text around the passage, then re-read the section on sexual activities again. Feeling dumb and embarrassed, but seeing no alternative, Kim politely cleared her throat and, when Pearce glanced back at her with that grandfatherly smile of his, asked in a voice she knew sounded just like the squeak of the timid mouse she suddenly felt,

‘Mister Pearce, Sir, I’m sorry, but I... I don’t think I understand this section here...’ she pointed out the text in question, and Pearce obligingly slipped on his reading glasses to glance over it himself. As he read his expression darkened, and Kim was sure she’d just blown her chances at getting the job... but it turned out that it wasn’t her the old man was mad at,

‘It’s those damned liberal laws on the so-called “sex trade”,’ he exclaimed, tossing the contract down onto his desk as he pulled off his glasses, ‘some bright young thing in contracts got the idea that adding that filth to our employment conditions would protect the company from sexual harassment suites. It’s shameful...’ he shook his head to emphasise his point, but then sighed and shrugged, ‘... but technically correct, I suppose. Wouldn’t have happened in my day, of course... but the way things are now...’ he shrugged again, his tone apologetic, ‘... what can I say? The senior partners know I’m due for retirement in a few years, they agree we have to keep up with the times, all the usual “new broom” guff they start to pull when the “old man” is on his way out...’

‘But...’ Kim barely managed to get the words out, ‘... but that says, if I sign, I agree to participate in sexual activities solicited by my employer. I’m sorry, Mister Pearce, I really do want this job, but I’m not a...’ she was going to say ‘whore’, but at the last moment thought better of it, and instead concluded, ‘... sex worker.’

‘No,’ Pearce looked as horrified as Kim felt as he replied, ‘no, of course not. Like I said, it’s shameful that such filth is even in our contracts, but there’s not really anything I can do about that. Now, I fully understand if you want to turn down the job on the basis of that... content... Miss Clarke. In fact, I’d even use such a refusal as ammunition to try to persuade the senior partners to change our policies... although I don’t hold out much hope that it would succeed. But, that said, you are by far the best candidate we’ve had for the position, and I would like you to accept the job. As for this... disagreeable content... I can only offer you my word that I’ve been happily married for more than forty years now, love my wife, and have never given into the temptation to stray, and that I have too much respect for you, or any employee of this firm, to abuse such a clause for my own ends. I may be a lawyer, Miss Clarke, but I’m also old enough that I’ve started to believe in the spirit of the law again, not just the letter, and in my books sexual harassment is sexual harassment, and it’s not something that will ever rear its ugly head at my firm as long as I still draw breath!’

Later, Kim couldn’t quite recall whether it was the passion of Pearce’s words, the fact she did really want the job, or... something else... which made her do it but, despite still feeling trepidation about the nature of the contract, picked up the pen the old man proffered, and signed her name...

‘Let me guess,’ Sarah interrupted the tale, waving to the waiter to bring the pot over as she spoke, ‘the old bastard took you over his desk right then and there?’

‘What?’ Kim blinked, truly shocked by the suggestion, then shook her head and smiled, ‘God, no! Sarah, your mind really is in the gutter, isn’t it? Jesus... No, Pearce was good to his word. It was amazing, those first couple of months, working for him. Sure, it was just junior secretarial stuff – photocopying, fetching files, making coffee...’ she offered the handsome young waiter an appreciative smile as he brought their refills, and caught herself wondering if he was as Italian as he looked, but turned back to Sarah as he left (only to catch her redhead friend eyeing the waiter’s tight bottom as he walked away). Sipping coffee, the two friends glanced between the waiter and each other, before Sarah finally broke the silence,

‘Probably gay.’

‘Probably,’ they both laughed, and Kim got back to her story,

‘Anyway, like I was saying, pretty menial stuff really, but I also got to see Pearce working up close, get into the ebb and flow of the game of high-powered legal work... It was amazing, everything I’d dreamed of.’

‘So,’ Sarah had that glint of curiosity back in her eyes, ‘what happened?’

Kim’s smile faded and she gazed into her coffee as a pang of grief flowed through her chest,

‘Like I said... Pearce was as good as his word. The whole sex thing didn’t come up... as long as drew breath...’

There was a mirrored panel just inside the elevator door, and Kim took a moment to check her appearance as they reached her floor at Pearce, Kane, and Hart. Her brunette hair was a little shorter, and in a more classical style, than when she’d first started at the firm, and her makeup was a little more subtle than it had been back then. It’d only been a few months, but she felt she’d grown so much as a person, as a professional, under the late Mister Pearce, and his death was still raw to her on the Monday after the funeral. She’d been unsure what to wear that morning – would black be an over-the-top gesture? Would anything else be considered too frivolous? In the end she’d settled for a dark grey business suit, a slender jacket and slim skirt which ended a few inches above the knee, with black tights and a simple white blouse. Classy and professional, she hoped, but still respectful to the old man’s passing. It didn’t hurt that the skirt and medium-length heels helped to accentuate her well-toned legs, which she tended to consider her best feature, and the entire ensemble had started to feel a little like a layer of armour to her – putting on her ‘working clothes’ helped her push back all the doubts and emotions she had about herself and assume the outer confidence that Mister Pearce had helped to foster in her. A final touch was the slender-framed oval glasses she wore. She’d worn contacts since college, only wearing her glasses when studying in private or at home and feeling lazy, but Pearce, in his old fashioned manner, had made a side comment about a pair of glasses making people take you seriously, and Kim had taken that to heart, as she had all the pearls of wisdom the old man had offered her. She took a final look at her reflection as the elevator stopped, and managed to force a small smile – Pearce was gone, but he’d done what he could to prepare Kim for the world she’d stepped into... now it was up to her to see that his efforts hadn’t been wasted.

‘Kimberly!’ the vocal snap of Mrs Beaker – Pearce’s personal assistant that Kim had met on the day of her interview, and the woman who’d been her immediate boss these last few months – brought Kim’s attention to the here and now as she tried to step out of the elevator, only for the older woman to step forward and shoo her back. Kim was confused as Mrs Beaker continued, ‘What are you doing here, girl?’

‘I... I work here...’ Kim replied, wincing a little as the retort came out sounding more sarcastic than she’d meant. Mrs Beaker rolled her eyes,

‘Mister Pearce hardly needs a junior secretary now, does he, Miss Clarke? Don’t you read your e-mails, girl? Two floors down, report to Mister Hardman... and consider yourself lucky. Mister Pearce put in good words about you to various people, and Hardman needs a new secretary – you’ve landed on your feet, Miss Clarke.’

‘I... oh... I see...’ muttered Kim in response, slightly dazed and feeling stupid both for not checking her e-mails before work, and also for processing the change so slowly. As the doors to the elevator began to close again, she just had time to ask, ‘I don’t know Mister Hardman, is he..?’

‘He’s young,’ Mrs Beaker replied, rolling her eyes again as the doors slid shut, ‘and eager... for what it’s worth...’

Kim wracked her brains as the elevator descended, not sure exactly what Mrs Beaker’s tone had meant to convey. Hardman... Hardman... she tried to recall something about the man. She was pretty sure she’d heard the name mentioned as something of a young go-getter in the firm, a real lawyer’s lawyer – a true shark. In her short time at the company Kim had learned that it was generally considered a secretary’s best way to the top was to hitch her wagon to a guy like that. Sure, it’d be hard work, but hard work she wasn’t afraid of. Maybe... just maybe... there was a silver lining to the old man’s death after all? She hated herself for thinking such a selfish thought, but still couldn’t completely suppress a smile – Mrs Beaker was right, Kim has landed on her feet... Once more she’d get what she wanted, as long as she didn’t do anything to mess it all up...

‘No.’ It was the first thing that Dominic Hardman ever said to Kim, as she gently knocked on his office door and stepped in. For a moment she was confused, and a little worried that she’d already messed up somehow... although she couldn’t fathom how. She started to exit the room, but Hardman looked up at her, a frown furrowing his brow,

‘What are you doing? Get in here.’

‘But you, said...’ muttered Kim, ‘... I mean, I thought...’ he was looking at her as if she were stupid, and at the moment Kim felt that he was probably right. Taking a deep breath, trying to find that outer veneer of confidence she’d practiced so much, she closed the door behind her, stepped across the office, and proffered her hand, ‘Mister Hardman,’ she said managing a firmer tone without, she hoped, sounding like the babbling idiot she’d been a moment before, ‘I’m Kimberly Clarke, I’m your new secretary.’

‘Yes,’ Hardman’s tone was curt, and Kim started to wonder if he ever sounded anything but annoyed as he continued, ignoring her hand and walking round her, looking her up and down in a manner which made her feel like she was on display, ‘stupid name, but I guess you can’t have everything. Pearce thought the world of you, you know...’ he stopped, standing right in front of her, and only a couple of inches away. Hardman was a good head taller than Kim, and she had to decide in that instant between taking a step backwards, or craning her neck to look into his eyes... either that, or stare stupidly at his tie... Thinking that standing her place would be a better show of confidence, Kim looked up at her new boss, pushing back the wave of anger that his overt inspection of her, his harsh tone, and his invasion of her personal space had produced, to present what she hoped was a cool, calm, exterior as she replied,

‘Mister Pearce was a very kind old man.’

‘I’m not Pearce,’ Hardman retorted, his voice quiet, but with a hard edge to it. Kim skipped over a half dozen witty retorts which sprang to mind, none of which would have done her any favours, and simply responded,

‘No, Sir.’

They just stood there for a few moments, Kim staring up at Hardman, taking in the strong lines of his firm jaw, the little cleft in his chin, the steel resolve in his grey eyes, the five-hundred dollar haircut which seemed to somehow fit him to a ‘T’, even as she hoped that he couldn’t hear the way her heart was trying to trip-hammer its way out of her chest. Finally Hardman raised one eyebrow and stepped back behind his desk, casually flipping through one of the many files piled there. Kim let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, and immediately found her gaze darting to Hardman to try to see if he’d heard her obvious relief. If he had, he failed to show any indication, instead talking to her without bothering to look up from the files,

‘You’ll have these organised and collated by lunch,’ he said – a statement, not a request. Kim once more ignored the knee-jerk reaction of her brain to protest the lack of tact – Pearce had always voiced his instruction as polite requests – and tried to put her mind into work-mode. This was her opportunity to mess everything up, to prove to this man that she was the foolish girl she assumed he believed she was, and that was a trap she was unwilling to fall into. She’d listen, pay attention to everything he said, the little details bastards like him loved to throw in to try to trip people up, and make sure he had nothing to complain about. He wanted to be tough on her? Well, good – Kim was up for the challenge. He thought he was in the fast lane; well Kim could keep up just fine. He reeled off a list of office tasks, secretarial stuff, then added his lunch order, and some dry cleaning he wanted picked up. Kim forced a slight smile – it sounded as if she’d been eating her own lunch on the run, and wasn’t likely to get home until late... but if that’s what it took, that’s what it took. They weren’t unreasonable requests, all things considered...

‘Oh,’ Hartman concluded, finally glancing up at Kim with an expression of vague disinterest, ‘and get yourself down to Madame Belrose’s on fifth: I don’t want to see you dressed like this again.’

‘I...’ it was all Kim could do to hold back... what? Protest? Question? Defiance? She wasn’t quite sure what... she felt insulted, and knew full-well that there was nothing wrong with the way she was dressed. Was he testing her? He didn’t seem interested enough to be doing that. Maybe it was just typical macho bullshit: making sure she knew who was in charge? Whatever game he was playing, she got the distinct impression that it would be over – and she’d have lost – if she did anything but agree, so put on her most professional, emotionless, mask and simply replied,

‘Yes, Sir.’

Kim waited for a few moments, but Hardman seemed to be finished, now that she’d been issued her orders, so she retreated from his office with as much dignity that she could manage, closed the door, took a brief moment to let it all sink in, to try to purge any residual feelings of anger or frustration she felt at the way her new boss treated her, and made a start on her list of tasks...

Madame Belrose’s proved to be a tiny boutique which Kim nearly walked right past. There was no display window, just some neat, flowing, gold lettering with the name of the place. It didn’t even appear to be open, and Kim had to knock on the door and wait for a reply, wondering as she stood there if this was what really up-market clothes shopping was like. The middle-aged woman who opened the door, Madame Belrose herself Kim soon learned, possessed that timeless aristocratic beauty which Kim imagined only European women could ever achieve. She looked down her nose at Kim – literally, as the door to the boutique was up a couple of steps – and shook her head,

‘This is a private boutique, Miss,’ she declared, a hint of a French accent to her voice, but without the exaggeration and throw-away French words speckling the conversation you got from restaurants trying to please the tourists by playing to stereotypes, ‘appointments only, I’m sure you understand.’ She began to close the door, but Kim managed to blurt out,

‘Mister Hardman sent me!’ The middle-aged woman paused, then opened the door again to peer at Kim with renewed interest (although, if Kim was any judge, the level of disdain was pretty much the same as it had been when she’d first laid eyes on her),

‘Hardman?’ Madame Belrose asked, Kim nodded her confirmation, ‘And who are you?’ added the older woman.

‘I’m... that is to say... my name’s Kimberly... Kimberly Clarke,’ Kim replied, starting to feel for all the world like a naughty schoolgirl under the gaze of a disapproving head mistress. Madame Belrose tutted with apparent annoyance,

‘No, child: who are you to him?’

‘What?’ Kim had to think for a moment before responding, ‘Oh – I’m his new secretary, he sent me down here to get some new clothes.’

‘Yes,’ there was still no attempt to even conceal the disdain, as if Kim should have been ashamed to be seen in public, ‘I can see why he’d do that.’

‘I... right...’ Kim wasn’t really sure how to respond, although between Hardman and the Madame here she caught herself wondering if the old trout was her new boss’s mother – the attitude towards Kim seemed to match anyway. With a resigned sigh, the older woman finally stepped aside to let Kim enter the shop,

‘Fine,’ Madame Belrose commented, ‘I suppose one has to bear these burdens when one is known for working miracles...’

Kim blinked and stared at the woman, not for the first time that day feeling lost or stupid or both,

‘Thank you?’ she offered, without conviction. Madame Belrose rolled her eyes, closed and locked the door, and beckoned for Kim to follow her.

The room Kim was lead into turned out to be almost empty, with just a plush wine red carpet on the floor, and mirrors on all the walls. The sole furniture was a single carved wood chair, which Kim vaguely recalled was in a style named after a dead French king, but couldn’t remember which. Glancing about, and still unsure of herself, she turned to the Madame,

‘I guess I’d better see the business suits?’ she suggested. Madame Belrose let slip a mirthless laugh,

‘What you “guess” is of no consequence, child. Take off your clothes...’ she started to exit the room, then paused, glanced back at Kim, narrowed her eyes a little, and added with a gesture towards the chair and a tone like a parent trying to explain something very basic to a rather simple child, ‘... and place them neatly on the chair.’

Before Kim could reply, the woman was gone. For a few moments Kim let herself fume – she was already fed up of being treated like she was stupid, like she was insignificant; but she managed to calm down, to tell herself that the Madame was a professional – an expert at what she did – and, from the older woman’s point of view, had probably earned the right to be disdainful of young things without a clue about whatever high and mighty level of international fashion she specialised in. Kim managed a laugh – only slightly bitter – as she started to strip, neatly folding her clothes as she placed them on the chair: she told herself that rich movie stars and old world royalty were probably the Madame’s usual clients, that she was walking in the footsteps of the great and powerful, that it was all a privilege, and that Europeans probably all stripped nude when they went shopping for clothes.

Soon enough Madame Belrose returned, with a selection of clothes draped over her arm. She took a look at Kim’s nude body and shook her head,

‘You’ll need to shave or wax, child,’ she observed. Kim frowned and looked down,

‘My legs are fine,’ she protested, ‘I shaved them last night.’

‘Yes,’ replied the older woman, one eyebrow cocked. She stared at Kim until the younger woman blushed and moved her hands to cover her pubic triangle, then let slip one of her humourless laughs, and turned to hang the clothes she’d brought from the various mirrors around the room. Kim thought better of telling the old bat that some things were none of her damn business – it wasn’t like she’d be checking or anything – and resigned herself to just ignore the outrageous comment. Looking up at the clothes Madame Belrose had returned with, Kim failed to suppress a gasp of surprise: there was a skirt (shorter than Kim’s own by quite a bit), jacket, and blouse, but also lingerie – a corset in red silk with black lace and bows, as well as black, seamed, silk stockings. No panties or bra, Kim noted, musing that she must be expected to supply her own, but there was also a pair of black suede stiletto-heeled shoes, at least six inches high.

‘There’s some mistake,’ Kim protested. Madame Belrose glanced towards her,

‘I do not make mistakes, child,’ she retorted. Kim frowned,

‘No... sorry... I guess I wasn’t clear. I’m Mister Hardman’s new secretary not his... his... I don’t know, fetish model or something!’

Madame Belrose offered Kim what Kim guessed was meant to be a sympathetic smile, but which came across more as pitying,

‘This is a classic ensemble,’ the older woman explained slowly and clearly, ‘even if it isn’t what you happen to be used to wearing. Trust me child, you’ll soon wonder how you could ever have worn anything else.’

‘It... it’s just not me...’ Kim tried hard to refuse the outfit without hurting older woman’s feelings, ‘... maybe you’ve got something a little more...’

‘So?’ Madame Belrose cut Kim off mid sentence, ‘You know better than Madame Belrose, is that it child? Fine! Put your Wal-Mart clothes, or whatever they are, back on. I’ll go and phone Mister Hardman and explain your decision to him. I’m sure he’ll understand your position...’

The older woman let her words hang in the air for a few moments, eyebrows raised imperiously as she awaited a reaction from Kim. That Mister Hardman was the least likely person in the world to understand her position was something Kim was pretty sure of, having only spent a few minutes in the man’s company, and this old battleaxe seemed to have the guy’s ear. Kim could see her future at the company spiralling down the drain, and wondered what she’d feel like a day, a week, a year from now when she looked back and considered that she’d let something as petty as her own pride, her own sense of embarrassment ruin her career. She looked at the outfit again. They weren’t cheap, slutty, clothes brought by some bored housewife to put a spark in hubbie’s pants – they really were the real deal, handmade, silks and laces – stuff women would kill to wear. So she was meant to wear it to work... so what? Who’d know? The actual suit would look fantastic, and she wasn’t exactly planning on stripping off in the office anyway. So maybe this was another test guys like Hardman liked to try to trip up people like her? Maybe the guy got off on picturing her in a corset? Did it really matter? In the long run, Kim reasoned with herself, wasn’t it all about what she’d decided was important to her?

‘Fine.’ Kim nodded with a sigh.

‘Fine?!’ for the first time Madame Belrose seemed genuinely offended, ‘Well, as long as it’s “fine” with your highness...’ her words dripped hurt and venom both. Kim blushed, suddenly very sorry she was being such a difficult customer to this woman who’d obviously gone out of her way to accommodate her. Kim hung her head in shame,

‘I’m sorry, Madame,’ she offered with what she hoped was a suitable level of humility, ‘the clothes are – obviously – far above the poor quality I’ve always worn, and it would be an honour to wear them.’ Kim worried that she was laying it on a bit thick, but Madame Belrose responded with a haughty sniff, then set to work getting Kim dressed, as if the incident had already been forgotten.

Starting with the corset, Kim swore she saw her own eyes bulge a little in the mirror as Madame Belrose put a knee to the small of her back to pull the laces tighter than Kim had imagined possible. Kim breathed in as much as she could, but the Madame managed to force the infernal thing even further, with a matronly strength which Kim never would have expected of the older woman, before tying the laces up tight.

‘It’s... it’s too small...’ protested Kim, finding it hard to breathe. Madame Belrose chuckled,

‘Your first corset, child?’ she enquired, Kim nodded, and Madame Belrose clucked as she stepped gracefully around the be-corseted Kim, ‘Well, it’s meant to feel like that. Look how lovely your figure is, child, and it works such wonders for girls with bad posture like you.’

Kim ignored the dig about her posture – which she was sure was fine – and gave herself a closer look in the mirror. The contraption did things to her figure all right – she felt as if she were looking at a funhouse reflection: her waist was constricted to wasp-thin, Kim had small hands, but even she could almost get them all the way round what was left of her middle; her bosom was pushed up and in, like some sort of wonder-bra, although her nipples were still exposed, and combined with the way the corset forced her to arch her back, it looked like her breasts had turned into balloons!

Madame Belrose brought over the stockings and shoes. Kim was pretty convinced that it was impossible to bend over in the corset, so putting those on just wasn’t going to happen. Still, with some help from Madame Belrose, she finally managed. The high-heels added to the effect of the corset on her posture – her reflection looked to be all bust and bum – although she had to admit that they made her legs look fantastic, especially clad in the seamed silk stockings, which fastened to little belts from the bottom of the corset. She admitted as much to Madame Belrose, and managed to prompt what Kim imagined was the first genuine smile the older woman had offered her since they’d met.

‘Yes, child,’ she agreed, ‘you look marvellous... and you doubted Madame Belrose?’

Kim smiled a little, but countered,

‘Marvelous to men, maybe...’

‘Yes.’ Madame Belrose’s reply was matter-of-fact. Kim decided to put it down to her being older and French...

Kim donned the rest of the outfit with a bit more enthusiasm. The blouse and shirt seemed tailored to her new, corset-induced, figure, and the skirt proved to be pencil-thin, following her curves like a second skin, and just long enough to conceal the tops of the stockings she now wore. Facing herself in the mirror, Kim was blown away – she looked incredible, if she did say so herself. The completed outfit was every bit as professional as the one she’d worn to the boutique, but her new posture, her new curves, the cut of the cloth: it all combined to make her look like an absolute knockout. She blushed a little thinking about it – thinking about walking back into the office dressed like that, turning every head as she passed by, her every step radiating feminine sexuality, but clad in an outfit which screamed ‘business woman’. It filled her with both trepidation and confidence at the same time – like an actor dressing up to play a part on stage, nervous, but letting the role take over – and it gave her a delighted, naughty, thrill she’d never have expected. She couldn’t help beam a smile, and saw in the reflection that Madame Belrose noticed it too,

‘Madame,’ Kim said, this time with genuine appreciation, ‘you are an artist!’

‘Nonsense,’ Madame Belrose gently chided, ‘I’m a genius. But it’s still lacking something...’

Kim frowned for a moment. Sure, she’d probably fall on her face the moment she tried to move, but standing there she was as close to perfect as she ever imagined being. Then a thought hit her. She stepped across to her neatly folded pile of old clothes – clothes which now seemed so plain – managing to move with more grace than she’d have thought (as long as she stuck to tiny little steps) and fished out her glasses. Having learned her lesson she looked to Madame Belrose for approval then, with the older woman’s nod, put them on and stepped back to look at herself in the mirror.

‘Now, that’s perfection,’ observed Madame Belrose, ‘at least for the role you’re cast in.’

‘Yes,’ murmured Kim as her gaze lingered on her own reflection with appreciation, ‘all woman and all business at the same time.’

‘Oh,’ Madame Berose added so quietly to herself that Kim nearly missed it, ‘that too I suppose...’

‘Wow,’ Sarah peered just a little closer at her friend, ‘so you’re wearing one now? A corset I mean? That’s why you look so hot?’

Kim chuckled,

‘I’d like to think that’s not the only reason, but yes, I pretty much always wear one now – it just feels wrong not to.’

‘I should get one of those things,’ Sarah commented, sipping her coffee. Kim smiled,

‘Only if you like the idea of feeling sexy and confident all the time.’

‘It sounds like all women should wear the things,’ retorted Sarah. Kim raised her eyebrows,

‘Well, I’d not recommend it to lady police officers or fire fighters or anything – some careers are hard enough without restricted breathing, an inability to bend, and six-inch heels... but I guess it depends on your priorities.’

‘I guess...’ Sarah nodded, then added in a hushed whisper, ‘... but you didn’t suspect the... the rest of it? Even then?’

Kim sighed,

‘I’m sure you think I’m an idiot, but after Madame Belrose’s I was on a bit of a high. At first I was worried about the cost: the Madame does not come cheap! But she explained it was all on Mister Hardman’s dime, and supplied me with a whole bunch of outfits. So there I was, free clothes I’d never have been able to afford in my wildest dreams, turning heads as I walked down the street with new confidence. Wearing the lingerie was like a secret little thrill all through the day – I felt empowered. Sure, it crossed my mind that it wasn’t the sort of thing I’d expected from my new boss, but I rationalised it by imagining that he wanted me looking fabulous to make him look better to all the other guys he had to deal with in his job.’

‘A trophy secretary?’ Sarah asked, Kim shrugged,

‘That’s a fair comment, I guess – but he’d already made it clear he demanded the best anyway: it wasn’t like he wanted me just to stand around looking gorgeous... the way I saw it, that was just the cherry on the top of the cake. My job, after all, was to support Mister Hardman in his work, and if that included being some symbol of his machismo, then I felt I could deal with that.’

‘But the other stuff you told me..?’ Sarah began. Kim nodded, placing her coffee cup back on its saucer and leaning back,

‘Yes, well, I thought I’d gotten it all figured out... that doesn’t mean I was right...’

The reality of walking back into the office in the new outfit was more nerve-wracking... and more thrilling... than Kim had imagined. Turned heads, whispered comments of appreciation... she had a hard time suppressing a grin of girlish glee as she went about the rest of the tasks Mister Hardman had assigned to her. Moving in the corset took some getting used to, back arched all the time, Kim was forced to bend at the knee to reach the bottom drawers of files and the like. It didn’t take long for her to notice that the length of the skirt also tended to reveal the tops of the stockings she wore when she sat or crouched, and she spent a lot of time glancing about nervously and tugging uselessly at her hemline every time she had to dip down to grab a file or pick up a dropped pencil. Sat at her new desk, positioned as gatekeeper outside Mister Hardman’s office, she found herself forced to sit with her legs as far under the thing as possible, to try to hide the stockings. She mused that the new look was going to take some getting used to, but it was just another challenge that she was sure she could overcome. Mister Hardman himself she didn’t see for the rest of the working day.

It was long past hours, and even the lowly associates were packing up for the night and Kim was getting ready to do the same, when Hardman finally returned. Kim was crouched down behind her desk, filing the ‘Z’s, when Hardman strode right past her and into his office. She looked up with a start, but he was already gone. Closing the file cabinet draw, Kim stood, smoothed down the skirt (making doubly sure that no stocking-top was revealed), adjusted her glasses, picked up the paperwork Hardman had requested that morning, and stepped over in her tiny, graceful, steps to knock on the big wooden door to her boss’s office. He made her wait a while... just long enough so that Kim was considering knocking again, before calling out,

‘Come.’

Kim rolled her eyes: was everything with this guy stage managed? Still, she put on her best professional demeanour as she opened the door and stepped through. She closed the door behind her and waited patiently until Hardman, without bothering to look up from his papers, waved her over. Stepping over to the desk Kim waited again. Finally her boss looked up. She’d vaguely hoped for some big reaction from him – eyes popping out, jaw dropping – something to indicate there was a real human boy behind those steel grey eyes... but she was disappointed. He glanced her over and took the files she offered,

‘Better.’ It was his sole comment. Kim found herself pouting a little as he turned his attention to the files. Better? She could stop traffic! She’d almost done that literally a couple of times just walking back to the office! She suddenly found herself wondering if Hardman was gay, then chided herself when she realised that she would have been disappointed if he was. Sure, he was handsome enough (if you went for tall, chiselled, guys in impeccable suits) but he was also pretty much poster boy for being an insensitive bastard, as far as she could tell, so why would it concern her if he didn’t like girls?

Kim was beginning to wonder if she should leave, or say something, as she stood there waiting, but before she had to make a decision, Hardman finally put aside his paperwork at looked up at her,

‘Did you shave?’

Kim was taken aback by the question. It took her a moment or two to recall the disturbingly intimate comment Madame Belrose had made. Blushing, Kim felt her brow furrow,

‘Mister Hardman, Sir,’ she tried had to keep her tone calm and professional, ‘I really don’t think that’s an appropriate question for you to ask me.’

‘Meaning you didn’t,’ retorted Hardman, his own icy demeanour making Kim’s efforts seem like a passionate outburst by comparison. Damn lawyers! Kim felt hot from the flush to her cheeks, and suddenly hot and short of breath from the corset. It wasn’t sexy – not then – it was restrictive, and uncomfortable, and left her vulnerable and exposed. She’d thought of her old work attire as armour, but this was the opposite – she felt on display, under the microscope of Hardman’s scrutiny. How could she properly protest the man’s overly familiar question when she was dressed like some sort of slutty parody of a secretary? Maybe that was it: the whole thing was Hardman’s joke, his demented attempt to make her into some clown for his amusement? She thought about turning and walking away, but that would mean walking away from her career as well, of that she was sure. This was a critical moment, a turning point in their relationship – she had to set boundaries, it was no time to back down.

‘Meaning, Mister Hardman, that it’s none of your God-damned business, Sir.’ Kim forced herself to fix the man’s eyes with her gaze, even though those eyes sent an electric shiver of fear through her. No wonder the guy was considered so good at his job. Hardman matched her stare for a bit, then just shrugged and turned back to his papers. The gesture was so casual, so... so condescending... that it robbed Kim of any victory she may have felt by out staring the guy; she hadn’t beaten him, he’d just made it clear that playing with her was beneath him. There was a few moments of silence, Kim feeling more and more absurd by the moment, standing there waiting, then finally Hardman spoke, again without bothering to look up,

‘That will be all, Miss Clarke.’

Kim hesitated for a moment, then turned to leave. The way he’d said it, the tone he’d used, it sounded so... so final. Damn it all – that was it, wasn’t it? She was out on her ear. She’d done everything he’d asked, dressed in the stupid slut-suit for him, everything... only to let pride and embarrassment blow her chances exactly as she’d promised she wouldn’t back at Madame Belrose’s. She paused, slowly turning back towards Hardman. Why not answer his stupid question? He was just trying to trip her up, get her all flustered after all... and it had worked, hadn’t it? It’s not like she even had to be honest about it, right? Swallowing, she stepped back towards the desk,

‘Yes.’

‘Hmmm?’ Hardman didn’t look up. Kim bit back her annoyance – he wasn’t going to make it easy, was he?

‘Yes, Mister Hardman, Sir, I shaved.’

This time Hardman looked up. He leaned back in his chair and stared into her eyes for a few long moments before finally replying,

‘That’s a lie.’ It was a statement, not a question. Kim felt her cheeks flush again, both from anger and embarrassment.

‘I beg your pardon, Sir?’ she retorted through near- gritted teeth. Hardman cocked an eyebrow,

‘I’m sure you do, Miss Clarke, but that doesn’t change the fact you lied to me. I’m good at spotting lies, Miss Clarke, it’s part of what makes me good at my job. However, I‘m not unreasonable,’ his tone suggested the opposite, ‘so I’ll ask you again. Did you shave?’

Damn him! Kim wasn’t going to let him win this. Maybe it was that pride of hers rearing its ugly head again, she mused, but this was about setting boundaries, and she needed a win here... just one...

‘Yes, Mister Hardman, Sir, I shaved.’

‘That’s twice,’ Hardman retorted.

‘That’s the truth,’ lied Kim.

‘Prove it.’ Hardman’s simple comment, which he managed to make sound so reasonable, hit Kim like the proverbial ton of bricks. She felt her face going from flush to pale in an instant as the blood drained away. Surely he couldn’t mean..?

‘I’m sorry?’ she asked. Hardman sighed, sounding a little bored,

‘Again, I’m sure you are, Miss Clarke, but being sorry proves nothing.’

‘I...’ Kim stammered as she searched for appropriate words and came up empty, ‘... what? How?’

‘The “how”, Miss Clarke,’ Hardman replied, sounding as if his patience was wearing thin, ‘is blindingly obviously, I’d imagine even to you. But you don’t really mean ‘how’, you mean ‘why’,’ again it was a statement, not a question, ‘and the why of it is that I can’t have someone working for me who lies to my face and thinks she can get away with it. Hopefully you can see that, Miss Clarke.’

‘Oh...’ Kim found herself looking down at her shoes – those ridiculously high heels she’d been so keen on – feeling as if the abyss was opening beneath her feet. She’d finally managed to do it, finally managed to mess everything up. Finding herself unable to meet Hardman’s eyes, she bleated out a pitiful, ‘... ask me again, Sir... please?’

‘No.’ Hardman stated flatly. Kim felt she was about to burst into tears. She stood there, in silence, wishing her heart would just stop, stop its infernal booming and put her out of her misery. Finally Hardman broke the silence, ‘Look at me.’

Kim blinked several times as she fought back tears then, with a supreme effort of will, managed to look up, her gaze scanning across the desk, Hardman’s torso (which she found herself noting looked, under his business suit, like he was a regular at the gym), and finally up to his face and those cold, steel, eyes.

‘I’m not going to ask you again, Miss Clarke,’ Hardman explained, his tone matter-of-fact but, for him, almost indulgent, ‘we tried that, it didn’t work, and I’m not one to repeat my mistakes if I can help it.’

‘Oh...’ Kim squeaked out again. For another long moment she stared into Hardman’s eyes. God, he was a merciless bastard! What the Hell did he want from her? What..? Kim blinked again as she realised, then glanced down for just a moment, before looking back into her boss’s eyes again. He was still her boss, at least until she let him dismiss her. She’d come this far, what was a little more humiliation? She’d be done with it, Hardman would know she’d learnt her lesson, and she could get on with her career. Nobody else was even about. It’d be their little secret and, Hell, if Hardman laughed about it with his cronies at the bar, then there still wouldn’t be any more to it than a million other bullshit stories macho bosses made up about their secretaries. Steeling herself for what she was about to do, Kim crept her fingers down to the hem of her skirt, her eyes still fixed on Hardman’s, and slowly pulled it up to reveal her panties. Hardman didn’t even glance down. Biting her lower lip to stop it trembling, Kim eased down her panties, to reveal her unshaven pussy. There she stood, everything on display,

‘Aren’t you going to look?’ she finally asked Hardman – his eyes still fixed on hers – failing to keep the tremor out of his voice.

‘Why should I?’ was his emotionless retort. Kim blinked, licked her lips, her brow furrowed in confusion,

‘You said... I mean... you... I...’ she trailed off, then finally lowered her eyes, and conceded, ‘... because I want you to, Sir, please.’

Kim imagined she heard a faint edge of amusement to Hardman’s tone as he replied, although it could have just been her imagination,

‘Alright, Miss Clarke... you only had to ask.’

Kim stood there in silence once more, trembling slightly, unsure of how much time was really ticking past, although it seemed like a lifetime before Hardman spoke,

‘Unshaven, and panties too,’ he declared, ‘not good enough, Miss Clarke. I expect better tomorrow.’

‘Tomorrow?’ Kim blinked back the tears which were, by now, threatening to flow freely, and looked up again, ‘You mean I’m not fired, Sir?’

Hardman was leaning back in his chair again, fingers steepled in front of him,

‘At this juncture, Miss Clarke, that’s entirely up to you. You’ll need to be disciplined for this infraction, of course, but I assure you it’s nothing you can’t handle. Don’t answer now – go home, think about what you’ve done, and where you see your future working for me. If you’re willing to mend your ways, and to accept discipline, then I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. You will bring me coffee, strong and black, and bagel from the cart on the corner. Good day, Miss Clarke... I hope to see you tomorrow.’

‘I... yes...’ Kim managed, pitifully, as she moved, almost in a daze, pulling up her panties, smoothing down her skirt, and turned to leave...

‘Damn,’ Sarah commented, absent-mindedly turning the coffee cup she was nursing, before looking back up to Kim, ‘obviously you decided to go back...’

‘Well, yes, I went back,’ Kim confirmed, ‘but it wasn’t that obvious to me at the time. I was humiliated, and pissed-off, and angry and... well, I guess I can admit now, a little turned on...’

‘Seriously?’ Sarah exclaimed. Kim offered her friend a shrug and a sly smile,

‘Hey, we want what we want... besides, I didn’t even realise it at the time, not really. No, I stormed about my apartment for a bit, read over that stupid contract again, got out of the clothes, and finally had a nice long, hot, soak in the bath. Scented candles, bubble bath, the works...’

‘Nice.’

‘Right? Anyway, I was lying in there, thinking it all over, and finally thought to myself “fuck it: why not?”. So I did it, I shaved. It’s not the end of the world, right? It hardly makes you a freak in this day and age. For all I knew it’d feel good... and it kind of did. Tingled a little... so I was lying there, in the bath, freshly denuded mound and all, thinking about Hardman, about the way he’d humiliated me, the clothes he’d made me wear, all that stuff... and... well, you know how it is... I guess I just let my fingers do their thing...’

‘Gross!’ Sarah protested, just a little too much. Kim sneered,

‘Oh, and like you weren’t little miss five-a-day back in college? We did share a room you know!’

‘I...’ Sarah blushed deeply, ‘... you noticed that, huh?’

‘What, after you broke up with whatsisname? You know, the asshole?’

‘That doesn’t narrow it down much...’

‘You know... Bret?’

‘Oh God, yes, Bret... man he was big...’ Sarah demonstrated with a ‘big fish’ gesture; Kim rolled her eyes...

‘Whatever... anyway, hard not to notice your desperate attempts to substitute Mister Righty for Big Brett...’

‘Man,’ Sarah got a faraway look in her eyes, ‘I wonder what happened to Bret?’

‘Seriously?’ Kim raised an eyebrow as she gave her friend a quizzical look, ‘That’s all it takes to derail my sordid tale – you dreaming of Bret’s oversized schlong?’

‘It was pretty big...’ Sarah pouted defensively, but then added, ‘... but no, you’re right – what happened next?’

‘Well,’ Kim began again, ‘next I made up my mind, got dressed up in the outfit – no panties or bra, of course, and went to work the next day. Got Mister Hardman his breakfast, things seemed to be back to normal...’

‘What about the “discipline” he’d mentioned?’

‘God, yes,’ Kim smiled and shook her head, ‘that was in my head all day, worrying about what it would be, when he’d mention it again. By the time everyone else had gone home again I’d almost managed to convince myself that he’d forgotten the whole incident...’

‘But he hadn’t, right?’ Sarah was sounding a little too keen to hear about Kim’s punishment... it made Kim smile even more...

‘Right...’

‘Is that everything done on today’s agenda, Miss Clarke?’

The day had gone pretty smoothly, everything considered, Kim thought – the flow of work helping to finally push the events of the previous night out of her mind. She ticked off a mental checklist of tasks as she stood, as demurely as she could manage in the high-heels and corset beneath her business suit, in front of Mister Hardman’s desk,

‘Yes, Sir,’ she answered. Hardman looked up, eyebrow raised,

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, Mister Hardman...’ Kim began, but his big thing about being able to spot lies popped back into her mind, and she was damned if she was going to be caught out the same way twice, so quickly she added, ‘... apart from my being disciplined, of course, Sir.’

For a moment, she swore that Hardman was about to smile... but it never happened. Instead he nodded,

‘Yes, of course. Have you shaved, Miss Clarke?’

Kim had expected the question, of course, as well as the need to prove the answer, and had been trying to build up her courage all day... but she still found herself nibbling nervously on her bottom lip as she stared at her feet, took a deep breath, and slowly hitched up her skirt to reveal her denuded mound as she replied,

‘Yes, Mister Hardman, Sir, I’ve shaved.’

‘Better.’ Kim was beginning to suspect that was as much praise as Hardman would ever offer. Unbidden a tiny smile flashed to her lips. She inwardly cursed herself the moment it happened, and found herself praying to whatever gods would listen that Hardman hadn’t noticed but, as usual, he indicated nothing either way.

‘Bottom drawer,’ Hardman stated, gesturing towards a file cabinet in the far corner of his office which Kim had yet to see opened. Obediently she stepped over and knelt, back arched as always, to open the drawer, blushing as the tops of her stockings showed, and catching herself thinking it was stupid to be embarrassed by that when the guy had just seen everything anyway. Inside the drawer there were no files, but a single long cane – the type curved like a walking stick, used in old time schools to beat naughty children. For a moment she just stared at the thing, eyes wide, a lump in her throat. She hadn’t known what to expect, but this wasn’t it... although, she chided herself, she should have expected something like this from a guy like Hardman.

‘Any time today, Miss Clarke,’ Hardman called over wearily, as usual not bothering to look up from his paperwork. Kim took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then reached into the drawer, gingerly laying her fingers on the cane, as if it would turn out to be red hot to the touch or something. So he’d cane her, so what? It wasn’t anything her grandparents hadn’t gone through in school, and it wasn’t like he could get away with actually damaging her or anything. So it was extreme, sort of kinky, and probably not really legal, but if that’s what it was going to take to fix her bungle from the night before, then Kim guessed that’s what it was going to take. She grasped the cane firmly, closed the drawer, stood, and walked back over to Mister Hardman’s desk. She placed the cane on the desk and waited. Eventually Hardman looked up, then leaned back in his chair. He looked her over for some time, once more making her feel like she was on display, then stood, picked up the cane, bending its length between both hands (Kim thought it looked like he’d done that more than a few times before...) and gestured towards the desk,

‘Skirt up,’ he directed, ‘bent over the desk if you please.’

Having to force back the sudden thought that she’d been crazy to even go along with Hardman this far, Kim never-the-less took a deep breath, nodded, pulled her skirt up over her butt and bent over the table, leaning her weight onto the leather top with a nervous little sigh.

‘Grasp the other side,’ suggested Mister Hardman, ‘and spread your legs... yes... that’s better...’

Kim did as instructed, and caught herself chewing her lower lip again, which she made herself stop, imagining that it wasn’t a good idea if she was about to be beaten – she didn’t want to bite through it or anything. She realised that she had no clue how much a caning would hurt, and nothing to measure it against. God, she told herself, she must be mad.

Hardman stepped behind her, out of her line of sight, and she heard the sound of several heart-stopping test swishes of the cane through the air. After that he began tapped her butt with the cane, gently, and at first Kim flinched each time... but Hardman waited until she wasn’t flinching at the cane’s touch until he started in with the real blows. Kim let slip a cry as the first one landed, a burning line across both buttocks. Her fingers dug into the lip of the desk as if her life depended on it, and tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. The thought crossed her mind that she should call a halt to the punishment then and there... but before she could articulate the thought, the next blow landed, then the next, until Kim was squirming and squealing, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She vaguely recalled something about an old tradition of ‘six of the best’, but it was soon evident that Hardman wasn’t stopping at half a dozen blows. Before long Kim’s buttocks and upper thighs were a blaze of fire, the worst of it the points where two caned lines crossed, standing out like little pin-pricks of extra pain. By the time Hardman has finished, Kim was all out of cries and tears, and just concentrating on breathing hard into the surface of the desk.

She heard Hardman take a step back, and managed to twist round so that she could see him, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up, top buttons undone and tie loosened, rubbing the shoulder of his whipping arm with his other hand. He glanced at her and smiled – the first time she’d ever seen him do that – and Kim worried that, against all logic, the small gesture seemed to provoke an intense feeling of fulfilment deep inside her, like pride at a job well done. It took a moment before she also noticed that she was wet, which didn’t seem sane: the caning had hurt, she hadn’t been enjoying it... had she? Maybe she had... on some level... she closed her eyes and tried to focus...

‘No!’ Kim yelled out, her eyes opening wide as Hardman suddenly thrust his length inside her, up to the hilt! For a moment she had to fight back panic as she tried to figure out what was going on. Hardman’s rock-hard abs were pressed up to her poor caned bottom, causing a flare of pain, even as his (equally rock-hard) cock was deep inside her pussy. His hands were wrapped completely around her corseted, wasp-thin, waist. She could feel the man’s weight pressing down on her and knew it’d be impossible to fight him off... even as she caught herself wondering if that’s what she really wanted to do...

For his part, Hardman stopped,

‘What?’ he asked, sounding annoyed.

‘No, please don’t do this,’ Kim pleaded, through sobs she couldn’t hold back, ‘please, I don’t want to...’

‘Seriously?’ he still sounded annoyed, but also a little confused, ‘Your terms of employment include a sexual activities clause, Miss Clarke. This firm hardly condones corporal punishment of its employees, I assumed you realised that this was sex play?’

‘But... but Mister Pearce assured me that clause would never be acted on, he...’

‘Pearce is dead,’ growled Hardman, matter-of-factly.

‘Jesus!’ Sarah exclaimed, nearly spitting out a mouthful of coffee as she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, ‘he raped you?’

‘Yes... no... not really... sort-of...’ Kim found it hard to explain. Sarah was having none of it, a militant expression which Kim remembered from their college days forming on the redhead’s face,

‘It’s either rape or it isn’t Kimmie,’ stated Sarah, ‘that “sort-of” stuff is bullshit guys pull. No means no.’

‘Yes,’ Kim nodded, ‘I agree... and so did Mister Hardman for that matter. I said “no” and he stopped, after all. It’s just, well, it was kind of complicated...’

‘How was it complicated?’

Kim raised an eyebrow,

‘What? You mean apart from the fact he was already balls-deep in me, after I’d dressed up and shaved for him, and let him cane me, and that whole thing with the contract I’d signed? Well, I guess what really complicated matters was that I was pretty sure I wanted it to happen.’

‘Really?’ Sarah didn’t sound like she believed what Kim was saying. Kim sighed and shook her head, finding it all quite difficult to explain,

‘I don’t know... well, I guess I wasn’t really that sure at the time... It was all too much too quickly I suppose.’

‘So...’ Sarah glanced around, as if someone would be eavesdropping or something, ‘... so what happened?’

‘God,’ Kim shook her head again, forcing a smile, ‘it was awful.’

‘So he... he did rape you then?’ Sarah asked, morbid curiosity appearing to get the better of tact. Kim shook her head,

‘What? No. He pulled out and just sort of growled at me to get out. So that’s what I did – pulled down my skirt and fled home.’

‘Damn... was he angry?’

‘Well, I thought so at the time. I guess he was a bit angry, but in retrospect I imagine he was mostly frustrated...’

‘Oh, Jesus, of course,’ Sarah chuckled a little, ‘I guess he had an urgent need to go whack off in the executive washroom or something?’

‘I guess so,’ Kim shrugged, ‘at least I waited until I got home.’

‘No!’ Sarah stared at her friend with renewed disbelief. Kim smiled back and spread her hands in an open gesture,

‘What do you want me to say, Sarah? You of all people know we have as much sex drive – if not more – than guys. I mean sure, I tried to deny it at the time, but the whole incident had got me really excited. Also... I’d been focusing on my career, you know? I hadn’t been with a guy since college, and I guess it, well, it rammed it home what I’d been missing...’

‘Funny,’ Sarah retorted, dead-pan. Kim smiled again,

‘Whatever. Truth is I tried to come up with reasons why I should just quit, but I just couldn’t get it to balance out.’

‘Get what to balance out?’

‘You know – when you make two mental lists: pros and cons?  I kept coming up with reasons I should stick with the job: “extra duties” aside it was a great job, if I’d really not wanted the whole sex thing I should have walked away in the first interview with Pearce, despite my best judgement it seemed thrilling, and I’d already invested so much... done so much already... it seemed the coward’s way out to just back down then. Besides, the fact I’d signed that stupid contract would be on file anyway, it wasn’t like I could expect to escape the “moral stain” on my record even if I quit then – I’d signed on with sex work as part of the deal.’

‘Oh,’ Sarah whispered, ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘Yes, well, that night I was thinking of all that and more... but I could only come up with one real reason not to stick with the job: my pride.’

‘So... you stuck with the job.’

‘More than that,’ Kim replied, ‘I made a choice to do the job.’

The next morning Kim was less happy about turning heads in the office as she made her way, coffee and bagel in hand, to see Mister Hardman. Whereas before her new outfit had give her confidence, now she caught herself imagining that all those people checking her out knew what had happened the night before and worse, somehow knew the decision she’d come to. She felt slutty and exposed, and the little thrill that gave her in her loins wasn’t helping matter much either. She paused before the door to Hardman’s office, taking a few deep breaths to steady her nerves, thinking to herself that it was her last chance to turn aside from the insane path she’d chosen, then chiding herself for being such a coward. Finally she knocked on the door and slipped inside.

For once Hardman looked up at her as he spoke, his brow furrowed with an expression Kim couldn’t decide was anger or concern,

‘Miss Clarke,’ he began, I...’

‘Mister Hardman, please,’ Kim swallowed hard as she interrupted her boss and stepped over to stand before his desk, ‘I’d like to say something.’

Hardman’s frown deepened, but he shrugged and gestured for her to continue. Setting the coffee and bagel on the desk (trying not to imagine what she’d done on that desk the night before) Kim held her hands behind her back and stood staring down, not meeting Hardman’s eyes, as she tried hard to recall the words she’d been practicing all night,

‘I’d like to apologise for my behaviour last night, Sir,’ she began, as demurely as she could manage, ‘while it’s true that Mister Pearce assured me that the sexual activities clause in my contract would never be acted upon when I signed, that doesn’t change the fact that I signed willingly with the clause in place. It wasn’t fair for me to assume that you’d have the same attitudes and opinions as Mister Hardman, and any subsequent misunderstanding was my fault for not discussing such matters with you beforehand. I understand that the role expected of me has changed under you, Sir, although it is still within the boundaries of the contract I signed. I also realise that I should have brought any concerns I may have to you as soon as you sent me to Madame Belrose’s, or at the very latest when you... um... took an interest in my personal grooming. It was never my intention to lead you on, Mister Hardman, and again I apologise. It is my fondest wish, Sir, that we can put this misunderstanding behind us, and start fresh.’

As seemed to be his way, Hardman allowed a uncomfortable pause after Kim had finished speaking. Finally he said,

‘Look at me.’

Kim dutifully raised her eyes to his, all too conscious of the speed of her heart beat, the way her deep breaths were causing her bosom to heave thanks to the corset, the hot flush to her skin she knew meant she’d turned crimson under his scrutiny. For his part Hardman fixed her with those steely grey eyes of his doing, she guessed, whatever it was he did when he claimed to be able to spot people lying,

‘Are you on birth control?’ he asked. Kim unconsciously licked her lips as she felt her mouth go dry, which she instantly felt stupid for: it was a simple question, there wasn’t a right or wrong answer, only the truth,

‘No, Sir,’ she replied, ‘I’m not currently seeing anyone and...’

‘You’ll get yourself to the doctors, the ones the firm uses are on file, and get a morning after pill.’

‘But Sir, you never...’

‘Don’t remind me. In any case, the last thing I need is a paternity case coming across my desk, so you’ll do it all the same, and you’ll get yourself on birth control. You’ll also have a weekly health screening for STDs: I assume you’re clean right now as far as you know?’

‘Yes Sir,’ Kim felt her blush deepen: was he trying to be cruel, or just being himself? He wasn’t going to make it easy on her, but maybe that’s what she deserved for the way she’d acted the night before? Sure, it was a normal human reaction, but it was hardly a professional reaction, and she had to start realising that if she was anything, she needed to be professional.

‘But first you can give me a blow job.’

‘I...’ Kim found herself staring stupidly at Hardman. What had she expected? This was what her big life choice had been about, after all; had she expected him to ease her into it gently?

‘You know what a “blow job” is I trust, Miss Clarke?’ Hardman asked, sounding impatient, ‘Fellatio, sucking me off, whatever it is you kids are calling it these days?’

‘I...’ Kim murmured again, cursing herself for sounding so slow, ‘... I... yes, Sir, I know what a... a...’

‘Blow job,’ coaxed Hardman,

‘Yes, Sir,’ replied Kim, ‘I know what a blow job is, Sir.’

‘Well are you going to stand around there all day talking about it, Miss Clarke, or are you going to do it? Or... perhaps your pretty little apology just now was so much bullshit?’

‘No, Sir...’ Kim began, but Hardman interrupted,

‘”No” you won’t do it, or “no” you’re not full of shit?’

Damn him! Kim imagined the terror the man must be cross-examining witnesses at trial, but finally managed to regain some initiative,

‘No, Sir,’ she said, with more conviction as she stepped across next to him and sank down to her knees, ‘I’m not full of shit, Mister Hardman, Sir.’

‘Prove it.’

Kim glared up at the man through her glasses, wanting at that moment nothing more than to bite his cock right off – that’d show him! But no, she was meant to be professional, right? She didn’t want to do this, but... No, she corrected herself as she began to unfasten Hardman’s belt and undo his pants, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t about wanting to do anything. She could always quit the job if that’s what she preferred. What she guessed she meant was that she wasn’t going to enjoy doing it, but that could probably be said for the majority of people who go to work every day. And that’s what this was now, part of her job. Hardman needed to enjoy it, that was the task, but whether she did or not was irrelevant. She’d committed herself to being the best she could be when she’d taken the job, and there was no reason that goal should change now that she had new duties to perform. God, maybe she really had inherited that old family Protestant work ethic? The thought was almost enough to make her laugh, but pulling Hardman’s semi-stiff cock from his shorts, contemplating what she was about to do, sort of put all the fun out of it. But she was committed now, at least that’s what she kept telling herself, so closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath, opened her eyes again, and got to work...

Kim had tried giving blow jobs to boyfriends a couple of times back in college, so she knew the basic idea, but had never really liked doing it. It suddenly struck her that she’d probably need to do some research, surf the net for techniques or something, if she wanted to actually be any good at it. Trying to recall what little she could, she began with her tongue, licking up the underside of Hardman’s penis. It seemed to stiffen more, and Hardman wasn’t complaining, so Kim pressed on, licking the shaft, coating it with her saliva, before rolling his foreskin back from the head and licking across that too, trying not to think about the taste. Soon enough Hardman’s member was living up to his name. Kim had never been any good at judging such things, unlike her friend Sarah, but guessed the guy was a good six or seven inches erect, the shaft curving up and slightly to the left... well, from her point of view knelt in from of the guy anyway. Slipping the head between her lips, she flicked her tongue over it, before talking it out again and stealing a glance up at her boss. It hurt her slightly that he didn’t even seem to be paying attention, eating his breakfast and looking over some files, but eventually he glanced down,

‘That’s fine,’ he offered in a non-committal manner, ‘keep going.’

Kim suppressed an angry sneer, mentally taking note that she really did need to get on that research as soon as possible, and went back to work, slipping the shaft back between her lips again and taking more of it in her mouth. Soon enough her head was bobbing up and down, Hardman’s shaft slipping in and out of her mouth, as she worked away with her tongue as well. It seemed to be going fine, until Hardman commented...

‘Deeper.’

... and Kim felt his hand pressing down on the back of her head. Her nose was pushed into his pubic hair, as his cock slid into the back of her throat. Kim instantly found herself gagging, choking, and pushed herself away from Hardman, coughing and spluttering.

‘Please,’ she muttered through little choking coughs, ‘I can’t...’

‘Gag reflex?’ he asked. Kim gave him a sidelong glance and nodded. Hardman’s brow furrowed again,

‘That’s just not good enough, Miss Clarke: you’ll need to work on that.’ Kim wanted to yell at him, but instead just nodded again,

‘Yes, Sir,’ she offered quietly, ‘I’ll do that, Sir.’

Hardman sighed, as if resigned to her sub-standard service,

‘Well, finish me off as best you can then, and don’t forget to swallow.’

Kim’s eyes opened a little wider in surprise, but not for the first time she mentally kicked herself for not expecting it. Hardman was a guy, after all, and what guy in that situation wouldn’t want the woman to swallow? She’d never done that for boyfriends before: even when she had tried blowing them, she’d always insisted they wore a condom, but she seriously doubted that Hardman would accept a suggestion like that with good grace, so instead she got back into position kneeling in front of him, murmured, ‘Yes, Sir, of course, Sir,’ and got back to sucking him off.

It seemed to take ages before she managed to bring Hardman to orgasm, and the time it took, combined with her gagging incident, sent a wave of shame through her, like she was a failure. Then, of course, she was ashamed of feeling ashamed about not being a better cock sucker, but did her best to file the weird mire of emotions she was feeling away for later perusal, instead focusing on the job at hand. For what it was worth, she managed to swallow Hardman’s cum, and kept on sucking on his cock until she was sure she’d got the last drops and it was starting to go flaccid. Licking her lips to catch any mess which had spilt, Kim made a mental note to pick up a toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, and a roll of mints to keep in her desk, even as she slipped Hardman’s cock back into his shorts, fastened his pants and belt, then stood, straightened herself up, and stepped back to the front of her boss’s desk.

‘Will there be anything else, Sir?’ she asked, attempting to sound as professional as possible despite, or maybe because of, what she’d just done. Hardman glanced up at her,

‘Of course there’s other things,’ he said with a touch of annoyance to his tone, ‘you blowing me doesn’t get you out of the rest of your work.’

‘Of course not, Sir,’ Kim agreed, restraining herself from shouting at him that she wasn’t trying to claim otherwise. Still, she listened as he reeled off the rest of her tasks for the day then, when she was finally dismissed, made her appointment to see the doctor.

Kim made it back to the office before lunch, the memory of the knowing and disproving look the big, black, nurse at the clinic had given her when she’d made her requests for birth control and regular STD screenings still haunting her slightly. Still, it wasn’t likely Kim was about to bump into the woman socially or anything, and she had work to get on with, so she pushed the lingering thoughts to the back of her mind, collected Mister Hardman’s lunch order from the delicatessen down the road, and headed back into her boss’s office. Hardman honoured her with a brief glance up from his seemingly endless workload,

‘Everything check out okay?’ he asked, not sounding the least bit interested. Kim blushed a little, wondering to herself if she’d ever stop doing that, but replied all the same,

‘Yes, Sir... um... no problems to report.’

‘Just put my lunch on the side there,’ Hardman ordered, gesturing vaguely. Kim did so, and made to leave, but Hardman wasn’t finished, ‘now strip down to your underwear and shoes.’

Kim paused at the door, for a brief moment fighting the irrational urge to just flee, as if that would change anything. Of all the things she’d imagine Hardman would want her to do, she’d at least guessed that seeing her in the expensive clothing he’d paid for was pretty high on the list. For some reason she’d imagined that he’d leave all the sex stuff until the evening, when the place was deserted, but he’d proven her wrong on that point when he’d had her blow him that morning. She realised that she didn’t have a key to his office on her, so she couldn’t even lock the door, and the thought that someone else could just walk in and see her stripped down like that, everything hanging out, fairly terrified her. Kim cursed her own stupidity, and added carrying a key with her to her mental list of things she needed to do, but that wasn’t going to help her right then. Mentioning it to Mister Hardman didn’t seem like a good idea either – Hell, he’d probably love it if some of his colleagues got to see the fun he was having with her! No, best to just keep quiet, bite the proverbial bullet, and get on with it. Turning away from the door, she stepped back across the room, and removed her jacket, and blouse, before sliding down and stepping out of her skirt. For a moment she’d considered doing a sexy striptease or something, but Hardman wasn’t even looking, so she just stripped down quickly and quietly, folding her clothes and putting them on the side, then stood in front of his desk clad in corset (this one a nice deep purple and black), seamed black silk stockings, and six-inch heels, glasses perched on her nose, hands behind her back, legs together, watching him and waiting.

Hardman was still signing some documents when he asked,

‘How’s the bottom?’

Kim wasn’t really sure what he meant, but answered as best she could,

‘The doctor said I checked out... um... no STDs or anything...’

‘What?’ Hardman finally bothered to glance up again, ‘No, I mean after the caning? Ready for another?’

‘Oh,’ Kim felt stupid and childish again. The nurse who’d checked her out hadn’t even commented on her “stripes”, still not completely faded, but had given Kim another of those knowing, disapproving looks. Meeting Hardman’s gaze, Kim decided to just be honest with him, so far that had seemed like the best policy, ‘I don’t really know, Sir. It was my first caning, so I’m not really in a position to compare it with anything. It’s still a little sore, I guess, and you can still see...’ she turned to show him the remaining after-effects of his last night’s work. Hardman grunted noncommittally,

‘You’re probably fine, but we’ll skip if for now, just to be on the safe side. I may want to give you a hand-spanking later, after hours.’

Kim was pretty sure that he was informing her, not asking her permission, and a hand-spanking had to be less painful than getting caned, right? She mentally added buying some ointment or something to her list of preparations – if this was going to be the regular thing it was starting to sound like, she was likely to end up with an ass like leather...

‘Oh... yes, Sir, of course,’ she replied, her own voice sounding horribly timid to her.

‘Right, bend over the desk,’ Hardman instructed as he rose, loosening his tie. Kim blinked,

‘I’m sorry, Sir, I thought you just said you were going to wait until this evening before...’

‘I’m going to fuck you, Miss Clarke,’ Hardman retorted, exasperation in his tone, ‘am I going to need to explain every little thing to you?’

‘Sorry, Sir,’ Kim hung her head, thinking that him actually explaining everything would probably make it all go a lot smoother, but deciding that such a thought was better left unvoiced.

‘Well?’ Hardman sighed, his impatience clear as he gestured towards the desk. Kim blushed again,

‘Oh, yes, Sir, sorry, Mister Hardman, Sir,’ she chirped as she stepped forward to take her position bent over the desk. She waited for a few moments as Hardman undid his belt, then felt the head of his cock probing at her pussy. Hardman stood back almost immediately,

‘You’re dry, Miss Clarke,’ he observed. Kim once more felt an illogical wave of shame, as if she couldn’t do anything right, but it was hardly her fault, was it?

‘Um... sorry?’ he squeaked, ‘Perhaps if you..?’

‘Miss Clarke,’ Hardman’s voice was firm enough that Kim actually flinched, although she was thankful that he could get that effect without raising his volume – the office walls were hardly thin, but she’d just die if anyone heard what was going on, ‘I’d thank you remember which one of us is the whore!’

‘Sex worker,’ Kim muttered, failing to keep back the tone of hurt she felt from what he’d called her,

‘Fine,’ Hardman agreed, ‘I’d thank you to remember which one of us is the “sex worker”. In the future, you are to be wet.’

‘I...’ Kim murmured, ‘... I’ll try my best, Sir.’

‘You’ll be wet,’ Hardman countered. Kim sighed, and added lubricant to her mental list,

‘Yes, Sir,’ she agreed.

‘Now, get on your knees and suck me off.’

‘Yes, Sir,’ Kim droned, as she slipped from the desk to the carpet and took his cock in her mouth for the second time that day. She’d hardly got going, when Hardman grabbed her hair and pulled her off,

‘That’s enough to get me in,’ he declared, ‘back on the desk.’

It took a moment or two for Kim to click that he’d only wanted her to moisten his member, and she suddenly wished she’d used more saliva – it probably wasn’t going to be too comfortable for her – but she reminded herself that her enjoyment wasn’t important as she resumed her position bent over the desk. This time Hardman made the effort to push himself inside her, and was soon thrusting up to the hilt in hard, rhythmic, strokes, each forward stroke slapping his still-clothed body against her still-sore ass cheeks and thighs, and forcing her forwards into the sturdy wooded desk. In a rather surreal moment, she found herself wondering if the desk was oak, or maybe rosewood, and nearly laughed out loud that her mind could go to such weird places when she was getting fucked.

Despite the rough handling, and Hardman obviously not giving a damn about her pleasure, Kim found herself moistening, and even starting to enjoy his cock in her... which was, of course, when he pulled out. Kim was pretty sure she’d not felt him cum in her, and was wondering what he was doing, when she felt his hands on her ass cheeks, spreading them apart, as the tip of his cock pushed against her anal bud. She let slip a rather pitiful whimper, but decided not to fall victim to another emotional outburst. She wanted to tell him to stop, to explain that she’d never done that before, that she didn’t want to do that, but after the debacle of the previous night, and her poor showing sucking him off that morning, not to mention her failure to be wet for him, she found she was more worried about getting another black mark than she was about getting buggered. Still, he lack of experience must have been obvious to Hardman, as he started to coax her, in that firm, commanding, tone of his,

‘Just relax, Miss Clarke, it won’t hurt as much then. No, don’t fight it. That’s it... ah...’

She felt the head of his cock pop through the ring of her sphincter as she tried her best to relax her muscles as he was telling her to. It hurt, but as he pushed deeper into her, there was actually something almost comforting about the full feeling his cock was giving her, which made it all the more embarrassing that she could feel tears running down her face. God, he must think her such a baby! She did her best not to cry, even biting into the knuckle of her fist as he pushed himself balls-deep into her ass, but try as she might, Kim couldn’t stop the tears. She was actually kind of thankful that Hardman seemed to be ignoring her pitiful display, and found herself just concentrating on breathing, trying to stay relaxed, and trying to not do anything more to humiliate herself further as he began to thrust in and out, slowly at first, then faster, until he was really fucking her ass. The sudden urge to rub her clit popped into Kim’s head – she really wanted to get off – but she couldn’t get her fingers down there with the desk in the way, and didn’t think Hardman would care enough to give her access, so she gritted her teeth and rode out both the pain and the frustration.

Once more, Hardman pulled out before he came, this time with an almost comical ‘pop’ sound which threatened to make Kim laugh, even through the tears.

‘Finish me off with your mouth,’ he instructed. Kim, a little wearily, got back into her kneeling position, then flinched back when she got a whiff of his cock. Hardman snorted,

‘Yes, it’s pretty disgusting back there, Miss Clarke. You need to do better.’

Kim really wasn’t sure what to make of that, but she supposed that she could surf for ‘ass-cleaning techniques’ or something as part of her research, and really didn’t want to irritate Mister Hardman any more than she had already, so she simply nodded. She quickly glanced around for something to wipe Hardman’s cock off with, but saw nothing to hand, and after a quick, furtive, glance up at his expression looming over her decided that the disgusting nature of her task was probably the whole reason he wanted her to do it. Well, she guessed she’d already got the mouthwash, so steeling her nerves, and wrinkling her nose, she leant forward to once more take her boss in her mouth, trying to ignore the earthy taste of her which now coated his member. Hardman seemed more urgent than he’d been at breakfast, and it wasn’t long before he’d grabbed the back of Kim’s head, and was thrusting away, fucking her face. Kim did her best to just relax and let him do what he wanted, but it was tough, and she had a hard time fighting back the gag reflex which had betrayed her earlier in the day. Luckily, it didn’t take too long, and Hardman ejaculated in her mouth with a satisfied murmur which sent an illicit thrill through Kim’s loins – perhaps she wasn’t completely useless at this after all? She swallowed, of course, and set to cleaning him up with her lips and tongue, before tucking his now flaccid member away for him, and helping him get straightened out.

Hardman turned his interest to his lunch and dismissed her, so Kim dressed as quickly as she could and trotted out of his office, heading straight for the ladies toilets, where she locked herself in a cubical to check herself over as best she could, trying to make sure that nothing was bleeding where her boss’s cock had been at her back passage. It was sore, but seemed undamaged. For a while she just sat there, letting the last of her tears dry up, then emerging to sort out her makeup and straight up her outfit. Finally, with a look at herself in the mirror and a satisfied sigh, she decided that no-one could tell she was such a whore... such a sex worker... she corrected herself, and headed back to get on with the rest of her work, hoping that she’d manage to find some time during the day to grab something more than her boss’s warm cum to eat.

‘Jesus, Kimmie,’ Sarah commented, failing to keep the look of disapproval from her eyes, ‘you became his mistress?’

Kim frowned a little, hurt by her friend’s expression more than her words,

‘No, Sarah,’ she retorted, ‘it’s not like he was married or anything, and besides, it was just part of my job, not some extra-curricular affair. I’m not sure there’s even a proper word for my role...’

‘Office slut?’ suggested Sarah helpfully, and a little cruelly. Kim winced a little,

‘Fair enough,’ she replied defiantly, ‘I guess that would cover it. I was thinking more along the lines of a portmanteau like “sexretary” or something – you know, “sex worker” and “secretary”...’

‘Sounds like the title of a bad porn movie,’ Sarah observed. Kim fixed her gaze at her friend for a long moment, then sighed,

‘Fine, I became his office slut then. I’d been working for Mister Hardman for a month or so by the time I finally felt I’d gotten into a good routine. At the start focusing on the sheer logistics of my new role had helped keep me from worrying about any moral or emotional implications. I’d taken to waxing, instead of shaving, to keep myself smooth as the boss liked me since, painful through it is, it tends to get better results and last longer.’ Sarah winced at that, and Kim chuckled before continuing, ‘Following advice I’d found on the internet, I’d been brushing my tongue twice daily, further and further back, in an ongoing effort to control my gag reflex, and for the last week or so I’d been proud that I’d managed to take Mister Hardman’s cock all the way into my throat. Each morning I made sure to only eat a light breakfast, as I’d give myself an enema before work and didn’t want to totally ruin the results before lunch time, which was when Hardman usually liked to bugger me.’

‘Ew!’ exclaimed Sarah. Kim raised an eyebrow,

‘What’s “ew”? The enema, or the anal sex?’

‘Pick one!’

Kim had to laugh,

‘Well, all I can say about the anal is don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, and as for the enema, well... what’s more “ew”, cleaning your own ass out every morning, or having to taste the fact you didn’t bother later in the day?’

Sarah looked about ready to gag right then and there, but Kim pressed on with her tale,

‘I’d also added scented wipes to the ‘war bag’ of items I kept in my desk, and would pop to the ladies and make sure I was as clean as possible for him back there before lunch. At nights, before bed, I had a range of soothing ointments and creams to ease the suffering of my poor bum.’

‘God, Kimmie! You let him fuck you every day?’

Kim shrugged,

‘Hardman wasn’t always in the mood for the same things, but on what I guess I was starting to think of as an ‘average’ day, I’d bring him his breakfast, and suck him off as he went through the list of tasks he wanted me to do that day. Just before lunch I’d complete my aforementioned cleaning efforts, then bring Hardman his lunch, strip off, and wait until he was ready to fuck me. Sometimes he was busy and just had me suck him off again, kneeling under his desk as he kept working, but usually he’d fuck me, more often than not in the ass, although when he could he tried to make sure he finished off in my mouth.’ Kim noticed Sarah about to make another comment to emphasise how disgusting it all was, so quickly pressed on, ‘At first I’d made sure to lube myself up, as well as clean my ass, before lunch, but recently I’d been getting wet enough just thinking about it and had started to skip the lubricant altogether. Often he’d discuss the progress of the day’s work with me, even as he fucked me, and I’d found that I had to get pretty good at multi-tasking, pretty quickly, as Hardman wasn’t one to take the fact I’d had his cock in me at the time as an excuse for me forgetting some detail or other.’

‘What a complete bastard!’ declared Sarah. Kim had to smile again,

‘Sarah, my dear, I thought that much was taken for granted... but evenings were the worst, as that’s when he tended to beat me. Not beat me black and blue or into a bloody pulp or anything, of course’ she added quickly as she saw a look of outrage building on Sarah which was likely to end with a call to the police, ‘but he’d turned out to have a variety of implements in that file cabinet of his – canes, paddles, wide leather belts, that sort of thing – which he’d use on me, at first just on my bottom, but soon he graduated to my breasts and pussy too. There was a sort of unwritten understanding that I’d get heavier implements, and on more sensitive body parts, when I messed up in some way, and maybe only a hand spanking when I’d done okay, so I guess I tended to blame herself when it really hurt. I still didn’t like it, at least not at the time, but I’d noticed (to my dismay) that I tended to have better orgasms when I got home on the nights he’d hurt me more. Sometimes he’d fuck me again in the evenings too, after my beating, but not always, and I began to realise that even the great Dominic Hardman was only mortal.’

‘Oh, Kimmie, baby,’ cooed Sarah with obvious concern as she reached across the table to take Kim’s hand, ‘you poor thing. He must have... I don’t know... brainwashed you or something, right? People don’t really enjoy being hurt, do they... at least not normal people like you!’

‘Jesus, Sarah,’ Kim retorted, feeling slightly self-conscious and a little annoyed, ‘who’s to say what’s “normal”? No, he didn’t “brainwash” me, Sarah – I’m pretty sure that doesn’t really happen... and to say I “enjoyed” being hurt just isn’t right. Pain hurts, okay? I hated every moment of it... at the time... but afterwards, when I got home, I’d usually have a long, hot, bath, and masturbate – I never really got a chance to orgasm at work, but thinking about the day’s activities gave me plenty of fuel to stimulate myself...’ Sarah pulled her hand back, and Kim let slip a rather unladylike snort of laughter, ‘I do wash, you know, Sarah!’

‘Yeah, I know, sorry...’ Sarah was looking hurt and confused, and Kim suddenly felt a pang of regret for dumping all this on her friend all at once; but she’d started now, and it’d be worse not getting through the whole thing, so she called for another refill for the both of them and continued, a little more subdued,

‘Anyway, before bed it was the ointments and balms for my hurts. Then the weekends... I’d really started the hate the weekends, finding myself wishing they were done with so I could get back work. For a while, I started to imagine that, perhaps, I was in love with Hardman,’ she glanced up at Sarah, ‘at least that would make a little more sense, right? But it was a fantasy which wasn’t to last...’

‘Hey, Kimberly!’

Kim shuddered a little as the voice of the rather odious Gerald Smallwood called to her from the door to the supply closet. Gerald had been hitting on her since she’d started working for Mister Hardman, and didn’t seem able to take ‘no’ for an answer; the last thing she needed was for him to corner her alone as she was trying to pick up a box of staples. Grabbing the staples, and a spare ream of paper (which she didn’t really need, but she could at least hold over her bosom, made so ample and obvious by the undergarments Hardman had her wear) she forced a polite smile onto her lips, turned, and made to move past the short, plump, balding man and out of the closet. It appeared that Smallwood was having none of it, as he moved to block her and pulled the door closed behind him, shutting the two of them in the small space, alone. Standing in her heels Kim was actually an inch or two taller than Smallwood, and had a wonderful view of the spreading baldness of his greasily-slicked thin black hair. She squinted and thanked the gods for her routine of training her gag reflex when he spoke again, as his breath brought with it a thick waft of garlic and salami,

‘Guess which records I’ve been looking at?’ teased Smallwood, trying to peak past the ream of paper and at Kim’s bosom. Kim was in no mood for the guy’s games, much less his company,

‘I’d love to play your game, Gerry,’ she retorted, ‘but Mister Hardman expects me back – some of us have work to do.’

‘I just bet you do,’ he answered, something sinister in his tone, ‘but since you’re in such a hurry, I’ll tell you. I’ve been looking at staff employment contracts...’

Kim couldn’t help but feel the blood drain from her face, knowing where this was going, but wishing it wasn’t so,

‘So?’ she asked, trying to sound casual, but failing completely.

‘Well,’ Smallwood nudged even closer to Kim, forcing her to back away from him until she quickly ran out of room, ‘imagine my surprise when I looked over our little Kimmie-cub’s contract, and found that it contained a sexual activities clause...’

‘Oh... that...’ Kim again failed to sound as casual as she’d hoped, ‘... that’s just standard stuff, right? Just to protect the firm from sexual harassment claims.’

Smallwood laughed out loud, the stink of his breath starting to make Kim’s eyes water,

‘What? You really believe that? Oh, poor little deluded Kimmie... That may have been the idea, but we could never get anyone to sign one of the things. The contracts were changed back to the old format within a month. Only one person ever signed, Kimmie... and I think we both know who that is!’

‘No!’ Kim was horrified! Was what the odious little man saying really true? Was she really the only one stupid enough to sign... no, it was all too much...

‘Pearce, that old hound dog,’ Smallwood was saying, even as his hand started to trace down the curve of Kim’s thigh, ‘he sure had an eye for talent...’

‘What? No!’ Kim brushed Smallwood’s hand away as roughly as she dared, ‘Mister Pearce was a kindly old man, he never tried anything like that!’

‘Hey,’ countered Smallwood, ‘no offence to the old man – much kudos, in fact! But Hardman? That bastard was always too slick for his own good, snatching you up and keeping you for himself. For shame! You can’t tell me Hardman doesn’t exercise that little clause in your contract, Kimmie, I’m not as dumb as you may imagine... all those late nights working together... this, may I say, very sexy little number you wear for him...’

‘Gerry...’ began Kim, as she continued to squirm away from his all-too friendly hands, ‘... Mister Smallwood, please! The work Mister Hardman has me do is confidential, you know that!’

‘Fine, fine,’ Smallwood retorted, still trying to get his hands on her body, ‘but what if I told you to get on your knees and blow me right now? Your contractually obliged to do that, right?’

Kim blushed furiously, and once more tried, and failed, to get past Smallwood,

‘Please, I don’t want to have to report you, Sir,’ she tried... it sounded feeble, even to her. Smallwood laughed again,

‘Seriously? For what? Sexual harassment?’

Kim was getting desperate, so played the only card she had left,

‘I... Mister Smallwood, I work for Mister Hardman...’

‘You work for the firm.’

‘I work for Mister Hardman, Sir, and I can’t imagine that he’ll appreciate you trying to poach his staff. Now, if you please, I’m already late getting back – I really do have work to do.’

‘Fine... fine...’ Smallwood, to her great relief, finally backed away and opened the door for her... although he made sure she had to rub up against him as she squirmed out of the closet. As she trotted as quickly as she dare in corset and heels back to her desk, she couldn’t shake the feeling that wasn’t going to be the end of it...

It was later that afternoon that it happened. Kim was in Mister Hardman’s office, just finishing off taking some notes for him, when there was a quick knock on the door and Gerald Smallwood popped his head round,

‘Dominic!’ he called out a rather too cheerful greeting. Hardman rolled his eyes a little, making sure Kim noticed, which made her giggle a little, before he called over,

‘Gerry, long time no see: what can I do for you?’

‘Any chance I could borrow Kimmie here for the afternoon? Sheila’s got some family thing on, and...’

‘Say no more,’ Hardman smiled magnanimously, ‘Miss Clarke’s just about finished here.’

Kim’s eyes widened in horror,

‘But, Sir,’ she began, desperately, ‘don’t you need me to..?’

‘Nonsense,’ Hardman interrupted her, ‘I can cope with this little lot, Miss Clarke.’ He looked over to Smallwood again, ‘She’s all yours, Gerry... just don’t forget to bring her back!’

Both men laughed, even as Kim felt sick to her stomach. So that was it? She could be lent out as easy as a stapler. She thought about trying to say something more, to try to explain to Hardwood what his ‘friend’ Gerry wanted of her... but he was already deep into his paperwork, and she knew better than to disturb him again on something he’d already made his mind up about. With immense reluctance, she took a deep breath, and stepped over to the door, to follow Smallwood out and along to his office...

‘There you go,’ declared Smallwood in a mocking tone, the moment they’d entered his office, and he’d locked the door behind them, ‘all above board, just the way you wanted it Kimmie.’

‘I...’ Kim tried to think of some other way to get out of her predicament, but kept coming up blank. She could quit, she supposed, but after everything that just didn’t seem like a realistic option any more. Finally she sighed, ‘... Yes, Mister Smallwood,’ she concluded, having nothing else to say. Smallwood was grinning ear to ear, like some sort of demented schoolboy,

‘So, what sort of freaky stuff do you get up to with Hardman?’ he asked. Kim started to reply, then stopped herself. No, she wasn’t about to make this easy for the guy, or to crack under the pressure and, despite feeling pretty betrayed by Hardman right now, she wasn’t about to betray her boss’s confidences out of spite. Trying to be professional had gotten her through her transition to her new role with Hardman, and that’s what she’d fall back on here,

‘You know I can’t discuss the work Mister Hardman has me do,’ she countered again, making sure she was standing to her full height, and putting on her best matter-of-fact tone, ‘now, what work have you got for me, Mister Smallwood? Filing maybe? Some letters to type?’

‘What? No...’ Smallwood sounded momentarily confused, and Kim inwardly smiled that she’d managed to catch him off balance as he spluttered out, ‘... I’m going to fuck you!’

‘Very well, Mister Smallwood,’ she retorted, her voice as emotionless and controlled as she’d heard Hardman’s on many occasion, although inside she was practically laughing at the shocked expression on Smallwood’s face. Obviously he’d been harbouring some sort of fantasy about an intimidated secretary forced to satisfy his desires against her will... but Kim didn’t want to give him that, why should she? No, she’d play it strictly by the book and no further... after all, that was what she was paid to do...

‘I... oh...’ Smallwood was floundering a little, ‘... what do you... ah... suggest?’

‘That’s for you to decide, Mister Smallwood – you’re the one spending the firm’s dime, after all.’

There was an awkward pause which Kim was tempted to let continue until clocking off time, but she had a feeling that she might lose the initiative she’d gained if she did that. She knew that there wasn’t much chance of escaping without letting Smallwood have his way with her – he was a high-priced lawyer after all, so he’d get his wind back soon enough. No, better she stay in control.

‘You mentioned “fucking” me, Mister Smallwood?’ she prompted, helpfully, adding, ‘I assume you mean sexual intercourse of some variety? I’m afraid you’ll need to narrow down your criteria a bit, Sir, just so that I know what you’d like me to do.’

‘Yes... yes...’ Smallwood murmured, suddenly seeming to find it difficult to meet her eyes, ‘... um... maybe a blow job?’

‘I’m sorry, Sir,’ countered Kim, ‘was that a request or a question?’

‘Oh...’ Smallwood had started sweating profusely. Kim would have laughed except that it didn’t bode well for her own comfort as they continued. Smallwood finally found his words, ‘... um... a request. A blow job... er... please?’

‘Certainly, Sir,’ Kim maintained her mask of professionalism, ‘and would you prefer to stand or be seated?’

‘Um... stand... no wait... seated...’ Smallwood looked around his office, seeming to Kim for all the world like a frightened rabbit as he pulled out his desk chair and sat down. Kim let him wait a moment, then stepped over. With the small man sitting and her in her heels and corset, Kim fairly loomed over the guy. Staring down at him, she raised an eyebrow,

‘Your penis, Sir?’ she asked. Smallwood stared back at her stupidly for a moment, then seemed to make a decision and hastily undid his pants to pull out his cock. Even semi-erect it wasn’t too impressive, Kim thought, and made sure that a little of that managed to slip through her mask of professionalism as she stood eyeing the little worm for a few heartbeats... it was the same trick Hardman used when he made people wait after knocking, the key being to respond just before the other party tried again... In this case Kim allowed an uncomfortable, pregnant, pause to fill the room, before deliberately hiding a small cough behind her hand... as is trying to cover up a laugh... and finally speaking,

‘You need to wash, Sir,’ she stated, matter-of-factly.

‘What?’ Smallwood asked. Kim almost suspected the man was close to tears, but that would have been too much to ask... and perhaps a little too cruel for her too. If she wasn’t careful she’d actually start to feel sorry for the guy,

‘I’m sorry, Sir,’ she retorted, ‘I assumed you, of all people, would be familiar with the legislation on the sex industry.’

‘Me of all..?’ Smallwood frowned, but Kim cut him off,

‘You being a lawyer, Sir,’ she explained, rather unconvincingly, ‘I’ll assume that your health checks are up to date?’ Smallwood squirmed a bit, and Kim suddenly wondered if that was a way out, but concluded that her first instincts were right – if she made him go off and get a certificate he’d have time to regroup, and the next time she’d be at his mercy, not vice-versa. She was pretty sure that, despite her earlier implications, Smallwood hadn’t had sex with anyone, even a whore, for a very long time, so the chances of him actually having an STD were pretty much nil. She pressed on, ‘and, of course, the firm is paying me. That only leaves hygiene. So, if you’d like to wash, Sir – a full shower is usual, but in this case I’m sure it’ll be fine if you wash your genitals. Make sure to use lots of hot water and soap, please, Sir.’

Almost in a daze Smallwood stood up and scrambled for the door. Kim couldn’t help but giggle, which made him glance back, and she kindly nodded towards where his cock was still hanging out of his pants. Swearing under his breath, Smallwood zipped up and hurried off. When he was gone, Kim leaned back against his desk and let herself laugh. That had been more fun than she expected, but she knew she’d have to actually suck his cock, and maybe more, when he got back, so she took the opportunity to pop back to her desk to grab her scented wipes, not trusting in Smallwood’s hygiene efforts. She paused, considering knocking on Hardman’s door and explaining to him what was happening, but she couldn’t guess what his reaction would be, and was still made enough with him for putting her in that position in the first place that she felt like being stubborn about it anyway. She got back to Smallwood’s office in plenty of time.

When he returned, Smallwood proved to have a damp patch spread across the front of his pants, no doubt from his haste to wash his cock in the gents before anyone saw him, but Kim wasn’t in the mood to let it go,

‘A little bladder control problem, Mister Smallwood?’ she asked. He glanced down and scowled,

‘What? No! It’s just water, I swear, I was trying to wash and...’

Kim held up her hand,

‘If you say so, Sir,’ she retorted, making sure to sound unconvinced. She waited until he was seated again, pants and shorts pulled down to his ankles... then waited a little long, to make sure he was uncomfortable, before finally stepping over. Staring down at his cock, she made a show of scrutinising it, whilst still looming over him, then very deliberately took out a scented wipe before finally kneeling before him. Taking her time – this time really wanting to be professional about it and not just pantomiming to punish the guy – Kim made sure to wipe everywhere she was likely to have to touch: lemon fresh had to taste better than whatever Smallwood tasted like. By the time she’d finished, even though she’d been pretty clinical about it, Smallwood was semi-erect again. Refusing to show any weakness in front of this man, Kim pressed ahead regardless, grasping his shaft in her hand and beginning to massage her fingers up and down. She was rewarded with Smallwood’s cock hardening, and found herself slightly annoyed that, by the time it was erect, it wasn’t much smaller that Hardman’s own, and perhaps a bit thicker too – so much for mocking him on that score... she recalled a quip about being ‘a grower, not a show-er’, but kept it to herself, not wanting to massage Smallwood’s ego as well as his penis. Not able to put it off any more, she finally leaned down to start licking up his shaft, suckling the head of his cock in her mouth, slipping her lips down...

... and he was done. Smallwood came into her mouth so unexpectedly, that Kim hardly had time to catch it all. She swallowed without thinking, then cursed herself that she could have used that as another little psychological ploy against him, spitting out his seed, but what was done was done, so she cleaned him up as neatly as she ever did Mister Hardman, before licking her own lips clean, and standing up.

‘Will that be all, Sir?’ she asked, still using her impression of Hardman’s emotionless tone, even as Smallwood was struggling to pull his shorts back up. He glanced at her, and she wasn’t quite sure if was ashamed or angry or just dazed. She hoped, now that he’d got his rocks off, she’d be free to go, but despite her initial success in controlling the situation, Smallwood wasn’t quite that much of a pushover – he had an opportunity, and he was going to use it.

‘Um... no...’ he began, but finally managed to find a trace of his confidence as he continued, ‘... no, Kimmie. That was nice for a start, but I’m still going to fuck you.’

Inwardly Kim swore – he was using that pet name again too, which she reckoned meant he was feeling more in control – but outwardly she just nodded,

‘I believe you did mention something along those lines, yes, Sir.’

‘I want to fuck you in your cunt,’ Smallwood explained, starting to catch up to the rules she’d decided to play by. Kim tried her best to keep her mask of professionalism in place,

‘Certainly, Sir,’ she replied, then added, ‘are you ready now, Mister Smallwood, or would you like some time alone?’

Smallwood opened and closed his mouth like a fish a couple of times.... but then smiled,

‘You can get me hard again, Kimmie,’ he stated. Kim saw control slipping away from her, but was running out of ideas. In the end she couldn’t think of anything, but to just do what he wanted,

‘Of course, Sir,’ she replied, then stepped forwards to pull his cock out of his shorts again. She mentally reprimanded herself for not fetching her lube when she’d got the scented wipes, but it was too late for such things now. She knew she’d never get wet herself for a guy like Smallwood – not so much because of his appearance, but more due to his attitude and personality making her flesh crawl – so wanted to get a lot of saliva on his cock, but she started with her hands again, rolling and kneading his cock between her fingers, and (against her better judgement) once more finding herself impressed by the size difference between the man’s penis flaccid and erect as it started to swell. Continuing with her tongue and lips – this time, perhaps ironically, actually giving him a better blow job than she’d managed to get through the first time – she made sure he was well and truly dripping before she stood, hand still on his cock, leaned back against his desk, spread her thighs, and guided him into her.

Smallwood was clumsy in his feral thrusting, and Kim found herself having to grip the edge of the desk behind her with both hands to stop from slipping. He tried to kiss her, but she turned her face aside, both from not wanting to be that intimate with the man, and in an attempt to avoid his foul-smelling breath. She found herself wondering why Hardman had never fucked her from in front, and suddenly worried, quite irrationally, that perhaps he thought she wasn’t pretty. Against all odds, Kim actually felt herself getting aroused, which immediately worried her. Was it just because she was thinking of Hardman? Or was she really that much of a slut no matter whose cock was inside her? And which one would be worse? Despite all her efforts at professionalism and psychological games, she realised that she was enjoying herself, and risked letting go the desk with one hand so that her fingers could seek out her clit for some much needed attention. After all, wasn’t she allowed to have some fun too?

In the end she climaxed, and Smallwood came inside her, and for one insane moment she felt ridiculously grateful to the oily little man. Luckily, the feeling swiftly passed, but she still felt a little guilty for the way she’d treated him. In the end he was right, wasn’t he; he had as much right as anyone at the firm to fuck her, as long as Hardman allowed it. She chuckled at that thought – she may be a whore, but her boss was a pimp! Smallwood glanced at her, obviously concerned that she was mocking him, but she was actually feeling on a bit of a high, so dispelled his fears with an affectionate, but not intimate, peck on the cheek,

‘Thank you, Sir,’ she offered, surprised that her words were backed by genuine feelings. Smallwood grinned,

‘No, thank you, Kimmie.’

Kim had to suppress a sudden urge to burst into tears. It was ridiculous, all he’d done was thank her, but that was more than Hardman ever did. Was she really so desperate for validation? She blinked away her tears before Smallwood could notice them, and worked on turning her surge of emotions into anger at her boss. This was all his fault, wasn’t it! He could have told her about her contract being the only ‘special’ one, he didn’t have to offer her services to Smallwood, he could at least be God-damned thankful for what she did for him once in a while! God, he really was a bastard!

Smallwood finally seemed satisfied, and dismiss Kim, so she’d not really had a chance to calm herself down before she burst into Hardman’s office, slamming the door behind her...

‘You utter bastard!’ she yelled at him. Hardman, for once in his life, actually seemed shocked.

‘What? Miss Clarke, I think you need to calm down!’

‘What have I to be calm about? That you send me off to be fucked by Smallwood with no more concern than lending the man a paperclip? That you didn’t bother to tell me my contract is the only one which terms me a whore?’

‘A “sex worker”...’ Hardman corrected, but Kim was on a roll,

‘I’m talking here, Sir! I’m a whore and you’re a God-damned pimp, Sir, and we both know it! And... and... Damn it all, Mister Hardman, do you even like me?’ Kim felt herself trembling, the rage she’d felt suddenly ready to flip-flop back into tears again... why did she have to be such a girl? Hardman waited a few moments, to make sure she’d quite finished, then got to his feet and walked over. Holding her by her shoulders, he talked to her in that firm, calm, voice he could do,

‘Miss Clarke,’ he began, not unkindly, ‘to try to answer your questions in order: I didn’t realise that Smallwood, or anyone, knew about your contract, so I assumed he needed standard secretarial help. Do you think I’d lend you out to Smallwood, of all people? The man’s an ass...’

‘But you’d lend me out to others?’ she asked, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes, her lashes, and her glasses, her mouth a rather girlish pout,

‘Well... yes...’ he offered, cautiously, ‘I thought our relationship was clear here, Miss Clarke, and our relationship is a professional one. As to your second question: I assumed you knew that you were the only one to sign a contract with the sexual activities clause. I’d initially assumed that’s what you’d wanted all along – it’s part of why I made sure to have you assigned as my secretary when Pearce died, I thought I knew what you... well, not to sound too patronising... but what you needed. After that first night it seemed as though I’d made a mistake. I had one of the new contracts drawn up and was going to present it to you the next morning, but... well, you were very convincing with that speech you made. I wasn’t trying to be a bastard, Miss Clarke, I just thought this was what you wanted.’ He paused, then shrugged, adding, ‘Not that I wasn’t enjoying it too, of course, but hopefully that goes without saying. As to my liking you or not... well, yes, I like you, Miss Clarke, you do fine work, but I hope I’ve done nothing to indicate that there’s anything romantic between us. We are employer and employee, Miss Clarke. I respect you, certainly, and yes I like you, but if you’re asking whether I love you, then no... and to be honest it’s a little unfair of you to expect otherwise.’

Kim sniffled a little, feeling ashamed, and wishing he’d hug her, but realising that was exactly the sort of unreasonable expectation he was talking about. He was right, she’d made her own bed in all this, and blaming him for it was just an easy direction to vent her frustrations. Breathing deeply to calm herself, she wiped the tears from her eyes,

‘I’m sorry, Mister Hardman,’ she replied, as formally as she could manage, ‘I see your point. All your points.’

‘Yes, well, good,’ declared Hardman, heading back to his desk. Kim found herself smiling – finally a “good” out of the man, not just a “better”... maybe she should get emotional on him more often?

‘I can still have one of the normal contracts drawn up, if you’d like,’ Hardman offered. Kim found herself staring at him dumbly. Why didn’t she just answer? That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? That was what she’d always wanted, right? But if it was such a cut and dried situation, why did it suddenly feel like it’d be such a big sacrifice to make?

‘If Smallwood knows about you,’ Hardman prompted, ‘then your secret is out. I can’t guarantee that you won’t be expected to service other members of the firm... maybe corporate clients too... With your contract as it is, you’re actually a rather interesting resource, Miss Clarke, one the firm is likely to want to exploit in the future. I, obviously, have a vested interest in you keeping your contract as it is, but full disclosure of what may be expected of you in the future if you do so is only right and proper. Either way, you’re a fine secretary, and I’m happy to keep you on, new contract or old. So the choice is yours to make, Miss Clarke, would you like to change the terms of your contract?’

Kim felt her heart beating trip-hammer quick in her chest, her eyes fixed on Hardman as her bosom heaved up and down in the corset. She blinked once, licked her lips, and replied...

‘What?!’ Sarah was nearly out of her seat in anticipation, ‘What choice did you make?’

Kim grinned and sipped her coffee,

‘That’s easy,’ she retorted, ‘the only choice there really was... the one that made me happy.’