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The Office - The Office Trilogy Book 1 (N.T. Morley)


The Office - The Office Trilogy Book 1 by N.T. Morley

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First volume of this scorching bestselling BDSM paperback trilogy is now an ebook! Suzette finds herself at her first ever job interview, a bondage mail-order company. Mr. and Mrs. Aldridge seem like they will be tough bosses who won't take much from their employees. And that's exactly what Suzette, who craves bondage and discipline, is looking for. She gets the job, and quickly discovers her new employers' interest in BDSM is more than financial. Before long Suzette is putting in long hours at Bondage, Inc., growing even more close to - and turned on by - her colleague, the slutty Sasha, and savoring each moment of "training" at the hands of her wildly attractive but sadistic bosses. Cover: Jeff Fisher

Product type: EBook    Published by: Renaissance E Books    Published: 7 / 2011

We do not recommend this book for readers under 18 years of age

No. words: 49190

Style: BDSM/Bondage - Content: Moderate -    Male Dom - M/F, Sex Slavery / Training

Available Formats: Palm  MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  Sony Reader (LRF)  PDF  MS Reader  MS Word  Text  RTF  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle

Current all-time sales ranking: #1566


Excerpt..

CHAPTER 1

"Bondage," said the woman, and Suzette shifted uncomfortably.
The woman tossed her head, looking very intently at Suzette's face. Suzette noticed briefly — once again — just how young the woman seemed to be. Mrs. Aldridge. That was her name. She looked much too young to be a "Mrs.," thought Suzette. And, perhaps, too attractive.
"Bondage," said Mrs. Aldridge again, more firmly this time. "Domination. Whips. Chains. Restraints. Manacles. S&M." Her eyes held Suzette's, and even if Suzette had wanted to look away, she would have been unable.
"Yes," said Suzette. It was the only thing she could think of to say.
"Leather underwear," the woman continued. "All manner of sex toys." She leaned closer to Suzette and looked at her very carefully. "Perhaps I should be more specific — penetrative sex toys." She said it "Pen-e-TRAY-tiv," so that it took Suzette a moment to understand what she meant, and to form a clear mental image.
"Oh," Suzette mumbled nervously. "Of course. Yes. Certainly."
Mrs. Aldridge was leaning against the edge of her desk, her already somewhat tight skirt riding up a little on her thighs. Suzette could — just barely — see the lacy tops of Mrs. Aldridge's black stockings, and could see that the woman wore a garter belt rather than stay-ups or pantyhose. For some reason this embarrassed Suzette, and she caught herself looking just a little too long at the hem of Mrs. Aldridge's skirt. Mrs. Aldridge saw it, too, and demurely tugged the hem down to cover the tops of her stockings.
Suzette blushed as she looked up at Mrs. Aldridge, who waited for several long seconds before letting Suzette see the barest hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. Then the smile was gone, and Mrs. Aldridge had shifted again, casually letting her silk business jacket fall open a little. Suzette's blush deepened. Mrs. Aldridge leaned forward, very close to Suzette, and the shadow of her cleavage deepened slightly. Mrs. Aldridge was wearing a somewhat low-cut beige camisole under her black business suit. The fact that the camisole was a light color made the outline of her breasts that much more evident.
Suzette usually didn't take such notice of the details of other women's wardrobes. But she was so concerned at making a good impression — she ran through her own wardrobe over and over again in her head. This was Suzette's first job interview out of college, and she had almost no idea what would be expected of her in the corporate world. Certainly she had gone through a lot of stress trying to figure out what she should wear to the interview. Why, she had changed clothes three times just this afternoon, each time soliciting an opinion from a very sleepy Samantha — Suzette's roommate, who always went to bed at dawn. Each time Samantha pronounced Suzette beautiful and then buried her head under the pillow. Even now, with the interview proceeding, Suzette was wondering if she shouldn't have worn the black suit, rather than the borrowed blouse and skirt — the suit was more flattering to Suzette's figure, but was a little too tight on her. That was why Suzette had opted for the white blouse (borrowed from Samantha) and knee-length black skirt (borrowed from her friend Susan) — she didn't want to look like too sexy for her first job interview, she thought that would be undignified. It wasn't like Suzette had all that much choice — she only had the clothes she had been able to borrow or steal, and the black suit had come as a loan from Suzette's sister Amelia, who was a size smaller than Suzette. The black suit looked great on Suzette, even if it was just a hair too tight — but it was a power-suit, made for an aggressive businesswoman who commanded all she saw, and Suzette wasn't sure she was there yet. And so Suzette had gone for the somewhat more restrained silk skirt and blouse. But from the way the office looked, the suit would have been much more appropriate. It was a very small office on the fortieth floor of a downtown skyscraper. But it looked very professional. The receptionist out front was dressed extremely well, in a fitted business suit and high heels — even if, as Suzette had noticed, the woman's blouse was a bit more low-cut, the jacket of her suit was quite a bit tighter, and its skirt a bit shorter, than Suzette had expected to see in an office. Mrs. Aldridge's clothes were also power-broker all the way, plainly very expensive, and not as provocative as the receptionist's. And Mrs. Aldridge wore those clothes beautifully; she looked like an advertisement for the high-powered corporate executive lifestyle. Suzette was more than a little fascinated by the commanding Mrs. Aldridge. She wondered for a moment whether perhaps — if she got the job — Mrs. Aldridge would be willing to give her a few tips on assembling her corporate wardrobe. Suzette knew she certainly needed some advice — all through college, she had gone completely casual, and her job at the campus paper didn't require her to dress up at all. Suzette had spent the last four years of her life wearing jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers. That would have to change, she knew, if she was ever going to compete in the corporate job market. Suzette felt a vague sense of excitement as she thought about all the things she would do to beautify her corporate image. But Mrs. Aldridge's voice brought her interest back to the matter at hand.
"Leather restraints, ropes, manacles — steel ones. Whipping posts, stocks, pillories." Mrs. Aldridge looked very hard at Suzette. "Cages, Suzette. Cages. Women in cages, collared like animals, on their knees. Women depicted in all manner of sexual submission to men — and to other women. Of course —" she waved her hand dismissively — "there's no actual penetration shown, or anything of that sort. But it's certainly implied by the sorts of things we sell."
"Yes," said Suzette nervously.
"And men shown in submission to women," Mrs. Aldridge continued. "Men on their knees, their genitals bound in complicated fashions, licking the boots of the mistresses they serve. Pleasuring them orally." Suzette listened, fascinated and somewhat horrified — horrified more by the obvious relish with which Mrs. Aldridge spoke, rather than the things she was saying. In fact, Suzette's fascination grew less and less academic as the conversation — if it could properly be called a "conversation" — continued. "Men being... penetrated. Do you understand?"
Suzette thought about it, but she wasn't sure. She could figure it out, sort of. But then Suzette decided she wanted to hear Mrs. Aldridge saying it, even though she had a rough idea what the woman meant.
"No," said Suzette breathlessly. "Tell me what you mean."
The look on Mrs. Aldridge's face expressed deep concern, even trepidation.
"Women wearing dildos," said Mrs. Aldridge. "And penetrating men with them."
"Yes?" whispered Suzette, as if she didn't understand.
"Anally," continued Mrs. Aldridge, with overwhelming seriousness.
"Oh yes," said Suzette quickly, her face brightening. "I see what you mean." Suzette was quite sure there was going to be a point here somewhere, but she couldn't imagine just what it was going to be.
Mrs. Aldridge leaned very close, so that Suzette could even smell Mrs. Aldridge's subtle perfume.
"Cock and ball torture," she said distinctly.
"Oh my," said Suzette. "Uh, yes," she continued nervously. "Definitely. Of course. Certainly." This was a job interview, after all.
Suzette was getting a little concerned. She wasn't sure what Mrs. Aldridge was getting at — but, thankfully, the woman made herself clear with her very next sentence. Mrs. Aldridge looked intently into Suzette's and watched her reactions very closely.
"Does any of this... disturb you?"
Suzette thought about it a long time before saying "No."
It was true. Suzette had never really thought about it all that much, at least not in this context. But she certainly wasn't offended by all the things Mrs. Aldridge had mentioned. The way Suzette saw it, any sort of sexual game was more likely to be interesting than offensive, as long as both parties were enjoying it. And everything that Mrs. Aldridge had mentioned certainly sounded — to the admittedly inexperienced Suzette, at least — to involve enjoyment by both parties.
Suzette wasn't exactly kinky, but she had enjoyed plenty of sex during her college years, and sometimes that sex hadn't been entirely tame. From her first sexual experiences, Suzette had enjoyed a wide range of sexual interactions, and bondage had been a part of that here and there. She had been tied up by three — no, four — of her boyfriends, and each time she'd enjoyed herself immensely, wanting to go further. Her fantasies, more often than not, centered around some kind of restraint, imprisonment, or sexual service. She had never really thought that was unusual, but now she supposed it might be. But Suzette never would have thought of herself as someone who was interested in S&M or anything like that. As Mrs. Aldridge had read off the list of deadly sins, however, Suzette had felt a little curiosity, a little excitement flowing through her. She knew that her breath was coming more quickly, and she felt a little warm. She could feel sweat forming on her back. Nervously, Suzette crossed her legs.
Well, the job sure sounded more interesting than shuffling papers at a law firm or something.
"Does it...interest you?"
Suzette felt a little nervous at the way Mrs. Aldridge asked that. She managed to stay casual, however. She answered with a shrug and a matter-of-fact "Oh yes." She added quickly: "Just a little. Not too much. I mean, sure it interests me. But... uh... I don't think I would find it distracting or anything."
"You don't think you'll be...offended by the subject matter?"
Suzette's mind filled with nervous pictures of the images she might be subjected to. She almost burst out laughing. She felt sure that whatever she would see on the job would be less bizarre than the mental images she had just conjured up.
"No, not at all," said Suzette, laughing nervously, remembering what her guidance counselor had said about being relaxed. "Oh, it takes a whole lot to offend me. A whole lot. Lots and lots." Suzette's voice trailed off uncomfortably.
Mrs. Aldridge smiled. "Women in submission? In service to men? On their knees, performing tasks that some might find... degrading? You don't find that bothersome or offensive? Not even a little bit?"
Suzette nervously shook her head. She suddenly felt a little afraid that Mrs. Aldridge could see her nipples through the blouse she wore. Oh shit, thought Suzette. I should have worn a bra instead of this stupid camisole. In fact, she was sure of it. She was sure her nipples were quite evident through the thin silk of the blouse. Why had they gotten so firm all of a sudden?
Suzette desperately wanted to cross her arms in front of her chest, but she thought that would draw more attention to it, make it more obvious. So she sat still with some difficulty, tensing when she noticed that Mrs. Aldridge's eyes dropped oh-so-briefly down to the level of Suzette's breasts. If anything, Suzette felt like her nipples were now that much more obvious.
"And — importantly — women making love with other women? Perhaps on their knees, dominated, humbled, worshipping another woman? That doesn't bother you?"
Suzette had a fair amount of difficulty answering, with the intense way Mrs. Aldridge was looking at her.
"Not at all," Suzette finally said, calmly. Then, nervously, she added: "My roommate's bisexual. And my best friend from college is gay. It doesn't bother me at all. I'm very open."
Mrs. Aldridge looked at Suzette for a long moment before turning away. Suzette felt the tension drain out of her body, and she nervously shifted, turning to the side so that her breasts were less evident. It was very warm in here.
"Very well," said Mrs. Aldridge, walking around the desk and seating herself behind it. "I don't by any means insist that you be a devotee of the sorts of things we sell in our catalogs. But I do insist that you approve of it. The majority of our customers are men, but a very large number of them are women — fully 30%, by our most recent survey. The catalog is geared toward both sexes. But as you probably know, photos of women usually encourage sales more than photos of men — in our market, at least. Therefore, many of our photo scenes involve two women, though they're certainly not aimed exclusively at lesbian women. Our strategy is to show our equipment being used in hot scenes, thus encouraging the customer to buy it — and reenact her own hot scenes. Or his."
Suzette was a little less nervous now that Mrs. Aldridge was behind the desk. But she had begun to think about how exciting the job would be. She would get to learn all about different kinds of sex — things she had never experienced! Suzette shifted uncomfortably, feeling her inner thighs giving off little tingles of excitement.
"And to present those exciting experiences as convincingly as possible, we need an accomplished layout artist who can put together a top-notch catalog. Our catalogs are eighty pages or more, and so, as you can imagine, it's a lot of work putting one together."
"I can imagine," said Suzette quickly, trying to keep her mind focused on the conversation and not let it stray off into what the "hot scenes" depicted in the catalog might entail. She wasn't entirely successful.
"Wh—where do you get the photographs?" blurted Suzette, and immediately wished she'd kept her mouth shut.
Mrs. Aldridge smiled faintly.
"I supervise all of our photo acquisitions," she said. "And I work firsthand with all our photographers. We have a dedicated stable of commercial photographers who have worked with us before, know what we like, know what we're trying to achieve in our photos. I personally supervise every photo shoot to ensure that it meets our business objectives."
Suzette couldn't stop herself from asking the next question. "And the models?"
Mrs. Aldridge's eyes seemed to betray a hint of mischief as she let long moments pass before answering.
"All our catalog photos show the actual equipment, being used exactly as it would be used by the consumer, in a scene in her — or his — home — or dungeon. Our models are often commercial models, but they are also real people — who enjoy what they do. On and off camera."
Suzette felt a tingle go through her body as she tried to decipher that answer. In a way it didn't leave much to the imagination — but in another way, it did...Suzette's heart pounded.
"There are three employees at this location — you would be the fourth. Sasha, she's the receptionist, you met her. She's very nice. She handles some of our general office work, and takes phone orders. Then there's Katrina Bixby, who is our sales representative. She takes our business to consumer establishments — a wide variety of shops, not just your garden-variety sleaze joints — and handles our commercial accounts and bulk discounts. Then there's me — I'm Executive Director, and I run things. You would be the fourth employee — I'm afraid we've been without a layout artist for some weeks now, and the catalog is very overdue. We'll start losing business if we don't get a catalog out within the next month or so. That is going to be quite a challenge. Do you think you would be up to that sort of thing?"
"Definitely," blurted Suzette. "I love a challenge." That was the sort of thing her career counselor had told her to say, and it sounded wooden and awkward coming from her mouth, which felt uncomfortably dry at the moment — had she been mouth-breathing?
"Ah yes," said Mrs. Aldridge. "And then there's my husband, David. He is involved at a number of different levels, but most days he's off-site, managing our other business."
"Your other business," said Suzette, remembering something the guidance counselor had said about sounding interested in the totality of the business, not just the part that affected you. "Which is?" she asked brightly.
Mrs. Aldridge looked very serious.
"Goat cheese."
"Goat cheese?"
"Goat cheese. There's a big future in it."
Suzette was so nervous, she wouldn't have been able to laugh even if her brain had been able to comprehend the absurdity of that statement. Luckily, it wasn't, so it was a moot point.
Mrs. Aldridge quickly changed the subject. "I don't mind telling you," she said, "I was quite impressed by your portfolio. You did a lot of excellent work," she said. "Work with real commercial potential. My main reservation is that you haven't done any work in a sexually-related industry."
Suzette's mind raced. Oh no, she thought. I should have put it on the resume. I'm not going to get the job because of that.... but she could hardly tell Mrs. Aldridge now! Well...maybe she had to. Suzette made a split-second decision.
Suzette blushed as she quickly said, "I — well, actually I have."
Mrs. Aldridge seemed surprised. "Really? Of what sort?"
Suzette figured she may as well give the whole story, rather than trying to filter out what Mrs. Aldridge wanted to hear.
"I used to be a dancer," said Suzette. "I mean exotic dancing — I did a lot of ballet, too, when I was younger, but... what I mean to say is that I did exotic dancing. When I was in college, for the first two years. I did bachelor parties. Bar openings. Auto races. That sort of thing."
Mrs. Aldridge looked visibly impressed. "Auto races?"
Suzette shrugged. "Well... only one of those. Mostly bachelor parties."
Suzette wasn't really telling Mrs. Aldridge the whole story. The whole story was a little more sordid than that — but Suzette wasn't ready to go into it just yet. Maybe later.
Mrs. Aldridge nodded. "Well, that certainly counts as sex work, in my mind at least. Why didn't you put it on the resume?"
Suzette was about to give her a serious answer when Mrs. Aldridge smiled and winked, and Suzette realized the woman was kidding her.
"Well, that experience can be very important here. It's crucial that you be completely comfortable with the kinds of sexuality that we display in our catalog. We encourage consensual behavior, and negotiation. But sometimes... well, we've had a number of layout artists who simply got offended once they started laying out the catalog. I would hate to have that happen again."
"Oh, it wouldn't," said Suzette, too quickly. "I'm sure it wouldn't."
"Yes," said Mrs. Aldridge, reaching out to press a button on the side of the desk. In a few short seconds, the door opened and Sasha, the receptionist, appeared.
"Yes, Mrs. Aldridge?"
"Sasha, would you be so kind as to bring Ms. Sullivan a few of our back catalogs? So she can see what she's getting into?" Mrs. Aldridge gave Suzette that faint, enigmatic smile.
"Right away, Mrs. Aldridge." Sasha hurried off to get the catalogs.
"You've seen our documents about benefits, sick days, salary reviews, that sort of thing. You'll find that we're a very professional office, so your dress is of paramount importance. We obviously don't see most of our customers in the office, but we do occasionally have national sales representatives come by, and it's critical that you dress with the professionalism that shows pride in your work." Mrs. Aldridge glanced over Suzette's clothes, and Suzette shifted nervously. "What you have on is acceptable, though you might want to...spruce it up a bit. Go for the power-suit look."
Suzette was mortified, but she managed to hide her embarrassment even as Mrs. Aldridge looked her up and down more carefully.
"We can talk," said Mrs. Aldridge. "Ah, here's Sasha with your catalogs. Anything else you would like to ask me?"
Suzette shook her head as she took the catalogs from Sasha. Suzette's eyes went wide and she tried to look away from the photos on the covers of the catalogs. Suzette quickly dropped the catalogs into her valise. Sasha disappeared back into the front office, but left the door open.
"Excellent," said Mrs. Aldridge, standing up and extending her hand for a handshake. "We're interviewing several other candidates, and we'll get in touch with you within a week."
Suzette shook the woman's hand and said "Thank you, Mrs. Aldridge."
Mrs. Aldridge looked puzzled for a second, then smiled. "Oh yes, of course, Sasha. You see, we like to maintain a professional image, a corporate demeanor. She's afraid she'll forget to refer to me as Mrs. Aldridge on the phone, so she calls me that all the time." Mrs. Aldridge's eyes sparkled. "But you can call me by my first name. Which is Candace. Or better yet — Bunny."
Suzette could almost feel her hair curling. "Thank you," she managed to say without laughing. "Bunny."
"I'll be speaking with you soon, Suzette."
"Thanks. Uh, Bunny."

* * * *

Out in the front office, Sasha was seated behind the reception desk. She motioned Suzette over.
"She likes you," said Sasha with an emotionless tone to her voice. "Did she mention cock and ball torture?"
Suzette looked at Sasha, who was perhaps a couple of years older than Suzette, DARK-HAIRED and quite attractive. But she seemed so cold, distant, aloof — even now, with her conspiratorial whispers, she was without emotion.
"I think so," said Suzette. "Yes, she did."
Sasha went back to stuffing envelopes. "Then she likes you. Good luck."
Nervously, Suzette left the office and closed the door behind her. It all came down to cock and ball torture? That was hardly the most shocking thing Suzette expected to see.

* * * *

Waiting for the elevator, Suzette felt the tension flooding out of her. She had made it — she had survived her first interview! She felt a giddy excitement, even felt a little drunk. She had that euphoric feeling she used to get when she pulled an all-nighter and turned a paper in at six in the morning and then knew that she wouldn't sleep all day. It was as if she was made out of energy. As she waited for the elevator, she went over the interview in her head, wondering if she'd done everything right. There was no question that this wasn't your usual job — certainly the bondage and S&M angle made it different than what Suzette had expected. But the money was good, and Suzette felt more than a little excitement at the prospect of working with all those naked bodies. Laying out those dirty photos, trying to get the maximum sexual charge out of them for the reader — to encourage him to buy the company's product. Or her.
Suzette stepped into the elevator. She was alone, and for a second her mind flitted over the catalogs in her valise.
As the elevator went slowly down, Suzette opened her valise just long enough to catch a glimpse of the lurid photos on the cover of one of them. She looked up nervously, then reached down and began to page through the catalog, leaving it in her valise. Immediately Suzette felt a sexual charge growing in her body, as she flipped through the pages upon pages of naked women, restrained in various complicated ways, in a variety of submissive postures. Suzette caught one spread that particularly intrigued her, and before she knew what she was doing, she'd slipped the catalog out of her valise and was staring, wide-eyed, at the photograph.
The elevator bell went off, and Suzette gasped as the doors opened. She almost had a heart attack as she threw the catalog back into her valise and clutched it to her body. She was only on the thirty-fourth floor, and two staid-looking businessmen in suits were getting on the elevator. Damn, this thing was slow! Suzette realized that as the door opened, the two men might have gotten a glimpse of what she was reading. And her embarrassment must have been evident — she could feel her face flushing hot. One of the men, in his mid-forties, with graying hair at the temples but not at all bad-looking, didn't seem to notice, but simply stood behind Suzette reading his newspaper. The other guy, younger and with darker hair, gave Suzette a knowing glance and then glanced at her valise. He stood a respectful distance, but Suzette's embarrassment deepened as she stood, trying not to look at the man. She realized how cute he was. The cut of his suit accented his athletic body. Suzette wondered if he worked out. She noticed again how cute he was, and that he was staring at her. She looked down.
Another floor, and three more people got on, all men. Damn. Suzette had forgotten that it was rush hour, so it would be hell getting home. The elevator began to smell faintly of male flesh, something Suzette, to her horror, found herself liking. She had gone to school in a small college town hundreds of miles from the city, and hadn't been in elevators all that much. They made her nervous, in part because she sort of liked them. It excited her to be in a small, enclosed space, close to people she didn't know and would never know. Since she had moved to the city, Suzette had had more than a few fantasies about elevators. In fact, fully against her will, she was starting to have one right now.
I wonder if you could stop one of these between floors, she was thinking. With a guy, I mean. Maybe Rob. Or Paul. Suzette was a little shocked at herself, thinking about Samantha's boyfriend like that, but it's not like she hadn't done it before. Stop the elevator between floors. Some time when the building is really crowded, so everyone has to wait for you to finish. But you could take your time. He could come up behind me — she had switched from the theoretical "you" to the concrete "I," and even though she was horrified, she couldn't stop the fantasy that was forming in her mind — And press me against the wall, I would be wearing a little black dress, something really short, nothing on underneath, and he could enter me from behind...while everyone on every floor is waiting for the elevator, but they would just have to wait for him to fuck me, fuck me right, fuck me nice and slow, taking his time sliding it in...pushing it in me from behind while everyone waits...and they know what we're doing in here...they know it's me...
The fantasy flowed through her mind in seconds, fully-formed, and the image of her ass under the dress, pushed back to take her lover's thrusts, echoed in her mind.
Suzette's fantasy vanished with the loud bell of another floor — Thirty-two. Jesus Christ!
But the excitement still flowed through her. Now she was certain her nipples were showing through her blouse!


Excerpt..

CHAPTER 1



"Bondage," said the woman, and Suzette shifted uncomfortably.

The woman tossed her head, looking very intently at Suzette's face. Suzette noticed briefly — once again — just how young the woman
seemed to be. Mrs. Aldridge. That was her name. She looked much too young to be a "Mrs.," thought Suzette. And, perhaps, too
attractive.

"Bondage," said Mrs. Aldridge again, more firmly this time. "Domination. Whips. Chains. Restraints. Manacles. S&M." Her eyes held
Suzette's, and even if Suzette had wanted to look away, she would have been unable.

"Yes," said Suzette. It was the only thing she could think of to say.

"Leather underwear," the woman continued. "All manner of sex toys." She leaned closer to Suzette and looked at her very carefully.
"Perhaps I should be more specific — penetrative sex toys." She said it "Pen-e-TRAY-tiv," so that it took Suzette a moment to understand
what she meant, and to form a clear mental image.

"Oh," Suzette mumbled nervously. "Of course. Yes. Certainly."

Mrs. Aldridge was leaning against the edge of her desk, her already somewhat tight skirt riding up a little on her thighs. Suzette could
— just barely — see the lacy tops of Mrs. Aldridge's black stockings, and could see that the woman wore a garter belt rather than stay-ups
or pantyhose. For some reason this embarrassed Suzette, and she caught herself looking just a little too long at the hem of Mrs. Aldridge's
skirt. Mrs. Aldridge saw it, too, and demurely tugged the hem down to cover the tops of her stockings.

Suzette blushed as she looked up at Mrs. Aldridge, who waited for several long seconds before letting Suzette see the barest hint of a
smile at the corner of her mouth. Then the smile was gone, and Mrs. Aldridge had shifted again, casually letting her silk business jacket
fall open a little. Suzette's blush deepened. Mrs. Aldridge leaned forward, very close to Suzette, and the shadow of her cleavage deepened
slightly. Mrs. Aldridge was wearing a somewhat low-cut beige camisole under her black business suit. The fact that the camisole was a
light color made the outline of her breasts that much more evident.

Suzette usually didn't take such notice of the details of other women's wardrobes. But she was so concerned at making a good impression
— she ran through her own wardrobe over and over again in her head. This was Suzette's first job interview out of college, and she had
almost no idea what would be expected of her in the corporate world. Certainly she had gone through a lot of stress trying to figure out
what she should wear to the interview. Why, she had changed clothes three times just this afternoon, each time soliciting an opinion from a
very sleepy Samantha — Suzette's roommate, who always went to bed at dawn. Each time Samantha pronounced Suzette beautiful and then buried
her head under the pillow. Even now, with the interview proceeding, Suzette was wondering if she shouldn't have worn the black suit, rather
than the borrowed blouse and skirt — the suit was more flattering to Suzette's figure, but was a little too tight on her. That was why
Suzette had opted for the white blouse (borrowed from Samantha) and knee-length black skirt (borrowed from her friend Susan) — she didn't
want to look like too sexy for her first job interview, she thought that would be undignified. It wasn't like Suzette had all that much
choice — she only had the clothes she had been able to borrow or steal, and the black suit had come as a loan from Suzette's sister Amelia,
who was a size smaller than Suzette. The black suit looked great on Suzette, even if it was just a hair too tight — but it was a
power-suit, made for an aggressive businesswoman who commanded all she saw, and Suzette wasn't sure she was there yet. And so Suzette had
gone for the somewhat more restrained silk skirt and blouse. But from the way the office looked, the suit would have been much more
appropriate. It was a very small office on the fortieth floor of a downtown skyscraper. But it looked very professional. The receptionist
out front was dressed extremely well, in a fitted business suit and high heels — even if, as Suzette had noticed, the woman's blouse was a
bit more low-cut, the jacket of her suit was quite a bit tighter, and its skirt a bit shorter, than Suzette had expected to see in an
office. Mrs. Aldridge's clothes were also power-broker all the way, plainly very expensive, and not as provocative as the receptionist's.
And Mrs. Aldridge wore those clothes beautifully; she looked like an advertisement for the high-powered corporate executive lifestyle.
Suzette was more than a little fascinated by the commanding Mrs. Aldridge. She wondered for a moment whether perhaps — if she got the job —
Mrs. Aldridge would be willing to give her a few tips on assembling her corporate wardrobe. Suzette knew she certainly needed some advice —
all through college, she had gone completely casual, and her job at the campus paper didn't require her to dress up at all. Suzette had
spent the last four years of her life wearing jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers. That would have to change, she knew, if she was ever going to
compete in the corporate job market. Suzette felt a vague sense of excitement as she thought about all the things she would do to beautify
her corporate image. But Mrs. Aldridge's voice brought her interest back to the matter at hand.

"Leather restraints, ropes, manacles — steel ones. Whipping posts, stocks, pillories." Mrs. Aldridge looked very hard at Suzette.
"Cages, Suzette. Cages. Women in cages, collared like animals, on their knees. Women depicted in all manner of sexual submission to men —
and to other women. Of course —" she waved her hand dismissively — "there's no actual penetration shown, or anything of that sort. But
it's certainly implied by the sorts of things we sell."

"Yes," said Suzette nervously.

"And men shown in submission to women," Mrs. Aldridge continued. "Men on their knees, their genitals bound in complicated fashions,
licking the boots of the mistresses they serve. Pleasuring them orally." Suzette listened, fascinated and somewhat horrified — horrified
more by the obvious relish with which Mrs. Aldridge spoke, rather than the things she was saying. In fact, Suzette's fascination grew less
and less academic as the conversation — if it could properly be called a "conversation" — continued. "Men being... penetrated. Do you
understand?"

Suzette thought about it, but she wasn't sure. She could figure it out, sort of. But then Suzette decided she wanted to hear Mrs.
Aldridge saying it, even though she had a rough idea what the woman meant.

"No," said Suzette breathlessly. "Tell me what you mean."

The look on Mrs. Aldridge's face expressed deep concern, even trepidation.

"Women wearing dildos," said Mrs. Aldridge. "And penetrating men with them."

"Yes?" whispered Suzette, as if she didn't understand.

"Anally," continued Mrs. Aldridge, with overwhelming seriousness.

"Oh yes," said Suzette quickly, her face brightening. "I see what you mean." Suzette was quite sure there was going to be a point here
somewhere, but she couldn't imagine just what it was going to be.

Mrs. Aldridge leaned very close, so that Suzette could even smell Mrs. Aldridge's subtle perfume.

"Cock and ball torture," she said distinctly.

"Oh my," said Suzette. "Uh, yes," she continued nervously. "Definitely. Of course. Certainly." This was a job interview, after
all.

Suzette was getting a little concerned. She wasn't sure what Mrs. Aldridge was getting at — but, thankfully, the woman made herself
clear with her very next sentence. Mrs. Aldridge looked intently into Suzette's and watched her reactions very closely.

"Does any of this... disturb you?"

Suzette thought about it a long time before saying "No."

It was true. Suzette had never really thought about it all that much, at least not in this context. But she certainly wasn't offended
by all the things Mrs. Aldridge had mentioned. The way Suzette saw it, any sort of sexual game was more likely to be interesting than
offensive, as long as both parties were enjoying it. And everything that Mrs. Aldridge had mentioned certainly sounded — to the admittedly
inexperienced Suzette, at least — to involve enjoyment by both parties.

Suzette wasn't exactly kinky, but she had enjoyed plenty of sex during her college years, and sometimes that sex hadn't been entirely
tame. From her first sexual experiences, Suzette had enjoyed a wide range of sexual interactions, and bondage had been a part of that here
and there. She had been tied up by three — no, four — of her boyfriends, and each time she'd enjoyed herself immensely, wanting to go
further. Her fantasies, more often than not, centered around some kind of restraint, imprisonment, or sexual service. She had never really
thought that was unusual, but now she supposed it might be. But Suzette never would have thought of herself as someone who was interested
in S&M or anything like that. As Mrs. Aldridge had read off the list of deadly sins, however, Suzette had felt a little curiosity, a little
excitement flowing through her. She knew that her breath was coming more quickly, and she felt a little warm. She could feel sweat forming
on her back. Nervously, Suzette crossed her legs.

Well, the job sure sounded more interesting than shuffling papers at a law firm or something.

"Does it...interest you?"

Suzette felt a little nervous at the way Mrs. Aldridge asked that. She managed to stay casual, however. She answered with a shrug and a
matter-of-fact "Oh yes." She added quickly: "Just a little. Not too much. I mean, sure it interests me. But... uh... I don't think I
would find it distracting or anything."

"You don't think you'll be...offended by the subject matter?"

Suzette's mind filled with nervous pictures of the images she might be subjected to. She almost burst out laughing. She felt sure that
whatever she would see on the job would be less bizarre than the mental images she had just conjured up.

"No, not at all," said Suzette, laughing nervously, remembering what her guidance counselor had said about being relaxed. "Oh, it takes
a whole lot to offend me. A whole lot. Lots and lots." Suzette's voice trailed off uncomfortably.

Mrs. Aldridge smiled. "Women in submission? In service to men? On their knees, performing tasks that some might find... degrading?
You don't find that bothersome or offensive? Not even a little bit?"

Suzette nervously shook her head. She suddenly felt a little afraid that Mrs. Aldridge could see her nipples through the blouse she
wore. Oh shit, thought Suzette. I should have worn a bra instead of this stupid camisole. In fact, she was sure of it. She was sure her
nipples were quite evident through the thin silk of the blouse. Why had they gotten so firm all of a sudden?

Suzette desperately wanted to cross her arms in front of her chest, but she thought that would draw more attention to it, make it more
obvious. So she sat still with some difficulty, tensing when she noticed that Mrs. Aldridge's eyes dropped oh-so-briefly down to the level
of Suzette's breasts. If anything, Suzette felt like her nipples were now that much more obvious.

"And — importantly — women making love with other women? Perhaps on their knees, dominated, humbled, worshipping another woman? That
doesn't bother you?"

Suzette had a fair amount of difficulty answering, with the intense way Mrs. Aldridge was looking at her.

"Not at all," Suzette finally said, calmly. Then, nervously, she added: "My roommate's bisexual. And my best friend from college is
gay. It doesn't bother me at all. I'm very open."

Mrs. Aldridge looked at Suzette for a long moment before turning away. Suzette felt the tension drain out of her body, and she nervously
shifted, turning to the side so that her breasts were less evident. It was very warm in here.

"Very well," said Mrs. Aldridge, walking around the desk and seating herself behind it. "I don't by any means insist that you be a
devotee of the sorts of things we sell in our catalogs. But I do insist that you approve of it. The majority of our customers are men, but
a very large number of them are women — fully 30%, by our most recent survey. The catalog is geared toward both sexes. But as you probably
know, photos of women usually encourage sales more than photos of men — in our market, at least. Therefore, many of our photo scenes
involve two women, though they're certainly not aimed exclusively at lesbian women. Our strategy is to show our equipment being used in hot
scenes, thus encouraging the customer to buy it — and reenact her own hot scenes. Or his."

Suzette was a little less nervous now that Mrs. Aldridge was behind the desk. But she had begun to think about how exciting the job
would be. She would get to learn all about different kinds of sex — things she had never experienced! Suzette shifted uncomfortably,
feeling her inner thighs giving off little tingles of excitement.

"And to present those exciting experiences as convincingly as possible, we need an accomplished layout artist who can put together a
top-notch catalog. Our catalogs are eighty pages or more, and so, as you can imagine, it's a lot of work putting one together."

"I can imagine," said Suzette quickly, trying to keep her mind focused on the conversation and not let it stray off into what the "hot
scenes" depicted in the catalog might entail. She wasn't entirely successful.

"Wh—where do you get the photographs?" blurted Suzette, and immediately wished she'd kept her mouth shut.

Mrs. Aldridge smiled faintly.

"I supervise all of our photo acquisitions," she said. "And I work firsthand with all our photographers. We have a dedicated stable of
commercial photographers who have worked with us before, know what we like, know what we're trying to achieve in our photos. I personally
supervise every photo shoot to ensure that it meets our business objectives."

Suzette couldn't stop herself from asking the next question. "And the models?"

Mrs. Aldridge's eyes seemed to betray a hint of mischief as she let long moments pass before answering.

"All our catalog photos show the actual equipment, being used exactly as it would be used by the consumer, in a scene in her — or his —
home — or dungeon. Our models are often commercial models, but they are also real people — who enjoy what they do. On and off camera." />
Suzette felt a tingle go through her body as she tried to decipher that answer. In a way it didn't leave much to the imagination — but
in another way, it did...Suzette's heart pounded.

"There are three employees at this location — you would be the fourth. Sasha, she's the receptionist, you met her. She's very nice.
She handles some of our general office work, and takes phone orders. Then there's Katrina Bixby, who is our sales representative. She
takes our business to consumer establishments — a wide variety of shops, not just your garden-variety sleaze joints — and handles our
commercial accounts and bulk discounts. Then there's me — I'm Executive Director, and I run things. You would be the fourth employee — I'm
afraid we've been without a layout artist for some weeks now, and the catalog is very overdue. We'll start losing business if we don't get
a catalog out within the next month or so. That is going to be quite a challenge. Do you think you would be up to that sort of thing?" />
"Definitely," blurted Suzette. "I love a challenge." That was the sort of thing her career counselor had told her to say, and it
sounded wooden and awkward coming from her mouth, which felt uncomfortably dry at the moment — had she been mouth-breathing?

"Ah yes," said Mrs. Aldridge. "And then there's my husband, David. He is involved at a number of different levels, but most days he's
off-site, managing our other business."

"Your other business," said Suzette, remembering something the guidance counselor had said about sounding interested in the totality of
the business, not just the part that affected you. "Which is?" she asked brightly.

Mrs. Aldridge looked very serious.

"Goat cheese."

"Goat cheese?"

"Goat cheese. There's a big future in it."

Suzette was so nervous, she wouldn't have been able to laugh even if her brain had been able to comprehend the absurdity of that
statement. Luckily, it wasn't, so it was a moot point.

Mrs. Aldridge quickly changed the subject. "I don't mind telling you," she said, "I was quite impressed by your portfolio. You did a
lot of excellent work," she said. "Work with real commercial potential. My main reservation is that you haven't done any work in a
sexually-related industry."

Suzette's mind raced. Oh no, she thought. I should have put it on the resume. I'm not going to get the job because of that.... but she
could hardly tell Mrs. Aldridge now! Well...maybe she had to. Suzette made a split-second decision.

Suzette blushed as she quickly said, "I — well, actually I have."

Mrs. Aldridge seemed surprised. "Really? Of what sort?"

Suzette figured she may as well give the whole story, rather than trying to filter out what Mrs. Aldridge wanted to hear.

"I used to be a dancer," said Suzette. "I mean exotic dancing — I did a lot of ballet, too, when I was younger, but... what I mean to
say is that I did exotic dancing. When I was in college, for the first two years. I did bachelor parties. Bar openings. Auto races.
That sort of thing."

Mrs. Aldridge looked visibly impressed. "Auto races?"

Suzette shrugged. "Well... only one of those. Mostly bachelor parties."

Suzette wasn't really telling Mrs. Aldridge the whole story. The whole story was a little more sordid than that — but Suzette wasn't
ready to go into it just yet. Maybe later.

Mrs. Aldridge nodded. "Well, that certainly counts as sex work, in my mind at least. Why didn't you put it on the resume?"

Suzette was about to give her a serious answer when Mrs. Aldridge smiled and winked, and Suzette realized the woman was kidding her. />
"Well, that experience can be very important here. It's crucial that you be completely comfortable with the kinds of sexuality that we
display in our catalog. We encourage consensual behavior, and negotiation. But sometimes... well, we've had a number of layout artists who
simply got offended once they started laying out the catalog. I would hate to have that happen again."

"Oh, it wouldn't," said Suzette, too quickly. "I'm sure it wouldn't."

"Yes," said Mrs. Aldridge, reaching out to press a button on the side of the desk. In a few short seconds, the door opened and Sasha,
the receptionist, appeared.

"Yes, Mrs. Aldridge?"

"Sasha, would you be so kind as to bring Ms. Sullivan a few of our back catalogs? So she can see what she's getting into?" Mrs.
Aldridge gave Suzette that faint, enigmatic smile.

"Right away, Mrs. Aldridge." Sasha hurried off to get the catalogs.

"You've seen our documents about benefits, sick days, salary reviews, that sort of thing. You'll find that we're a very professional
office, so your dress is of paramount importance. We obviously don't see most of our customers in the office, but we do occasionally have
national sales representatives come by, and it's critical that you dress with the professionalism that shows pride in your work." Mrs.
Aldridge glanced over Suzette's clothes, and Suzette shifted nervously. "What you have on is acceptable, though you might want to...spruce
it up a bit. Go for the power-suit look."

Suzette was mortified, but she managed to hide her embarrassment even as Mrs. Aldridge looked her up and down more carefully.

"We can talk," said Mrs. Aldridge. "Ah, here's Sasha with your catalogs. Anything else you would like to ask me?"

Suzette shook her head as she took the catalogs from Sasha. Suzette's eyes went wide and she tried to look away from the photos on the
covers of the catalogs. Suzette quickly dropped the catalogs into her valise. Sasha disappeared back into the front office, but left the
door open.

"Excellent," said Mrs. Aldridge, standing up and extending her hand for a handshake. "We're interviewing several other candidates, and
we'll get in touch with you within a week."

Suzette shook the woman's hand and said "Thank you, Mrs. Aldridge."

Mrs. Aldridge looked puzzled for a second, then smiled. "Oh yes, of course, Sasha. You see, we like to maintain a professional image, a
corporate demeanor. She's afraid she'll forget to refer to me as Mrs. Aldridge on the phone, so she calls me that all the time." Mrs.
Aldridge's eyes sparkled. "But you can call me by my first name. Which is Candace. Or better yet — Bunny."

Suzette could almost feel her hair curling. "Thank you," she managed to say without laughing. "Bunny."

"I'll be speaking with you soon, Suzette."

"Thanks. Uh, Bunny."



* * * *



Out in the front office, Sasha was seated behind the reception desk. She motioned Suzette over.

"She likes you," said Sasha with an emotionless tone to her voice. "Did she mention cock and ball torture?"

Suzette looked at Sasha, who was perhaps a couple of years older than Suzette, DARK-HAIRED and quite attractive. But she seemed so cold,
distant, aloof — even now, with her conspiratorial whispers, she was without emotion.

"I think so," said Suzette. "Yes, she did."

Sasha went back to stuffing envelopes. "Then she likes you. Good luck."

Nervously, Suzette left the office and closed the door behind her. It all came down to cock and ball torture? That was hardly the most
shocking thing Suzette expected to see.



* * * *



Waiting for the elevator, Suzette felt the tension flooding out of her. She had made it — she had survived her first interview! She
felt a giddy excitement, even felt a little drunk. She had that euphoric feeling she used to get when she pulled an all-nighter and turned
a paper in at six in the morning and then knew that she wouldn't sleep all day. It was as if she was made out of energy. As she waited for
the elevator, she went over the interview in her head, wondering if she'd done everything right. There was no question that this wasn't
your usual job — certainly the bondage and S&M angle made it different than what Suzette had expected. But the money was good, and Suzette
felt more than a little excitement at the prospect of working with all those naked bodies. Laying out those dirty photos, trying to get the
maximum sexual charge out of them for the reader — to encourage him to buy the company's product. Or her.

Suzette stepped into the elevator. She was alone, and for a second her mind flitted over the catalogs in her valise.

As the elevator went slowly down, Suzette opened her valise just long enough to catch a glimpse of the lurid photos on the cover of one
of them. She looked up nervously, then reached down and began to page through the catalog, leaving it in her valise. Immediately Suzette
felt a sexual charge growing in her body, as she flipped through the pages upon pages of naked women, restrained in various complicated
ways, in a variety of submissive postures. Suzette caught one spread that particularly intrigued her, and before she knew what she was
doing, she'd slipped the catalog out of her valise and was staring, wide-eyed, at the photograph.

The elevator bell went off, and Suzette gasped as the doors opened. She almost had a heart attack as she threw the catalog back into her
valise and clutched it to her body. She was only on the thirty-fourth floor, and two staid-looking businessmen in suits were getting on the
elevator. Damn, this thing was slow! Suzette realized that as the door opened, the two men might have gotten a glimpse of what she was
reading. And her embarrassment must have been evident — she could feel her face flushing hot. One of the men, in his mid-forties, with
graying hair at the temples but not at all bad-looking, didn't seem to notice, but simply stood behind Suzette reading his newspaper. The
other guy, younger and with darker hair, gave Suzette a knowing glance and then glanced at her valise. He stood a respectful distance, but
Suzette's embarrassment deepened as she stood, trying not to look at the man. She realized how cute he was. The cut of his suit accented
his athletic body. Suzette wondered if he worked out. She noticed again how cute he was, and that he was staring at her. She looked
down.

Another floor, and three more people got on, all men. Damn. Suzette had forgotten that it was rush hour, so it would be hell getting
home. The elevator began to smell faintly of male flesh, something Suzette, to her horror, found herself liking. She had gone to school in
a small college town hundreds of miles from the city, and hadn't been in elevators all that much. They made her nervous, in part because
she sort of liked them. It excited her to be in a small, enclosed space, close to people she didn't know and would never know. Since she
had moved to the city, Suzette had had more than a few fantasies about elevators. In fact, fully against her will, she was starting to have
one right now.

I wonder if you could stop one of these between floors, she was thinking. With a guy, I mean. Maybe Rob. Or Paul. Suzette was a
little shocked at herself, thinking about Samantha's boyfriend like that, but it's not like she hadn't done it before. Stop the elevator
between floors. Some time when the building is really crowded, so everyone has to wait for you to finish. But you could take your time.
He could come up behind me — she had switched from the theoretical "you" to the concrete "I," and even though she was horrified, she
couldn't stop the fantasy that was forming in her mind — And press me against the wall, I would be wearing a little black dress, something
really short, nothing on underneath, and he could enter me from behind...while everyone on every floor is waiting for the elevator, but they
would just have to wait for him to fuck me, fuck me right, fuck me nice and slow, taking his time sliding it in...pushing it in me from
behind while everyone waits...and they know what we're doing in here...they know it's me...

The fantasy flowed through her mind in seconds, fully-formed, and the image of her ass under the dress, pushed back to take her lover's
thrusts, echoed in her mind.

Suzette's fantasy vanished with the loud bell of another floor — Thirty-two. Jesus Christ!

But the excitement still flowed through her. Now she was certain her nipples were showing through her blouse!


Excerpt..

CHAPTER 1





"Bondage," said the woman, and Suzette shifted uncomfortably.


The woman tossed her head, looking very intently at Suzette's face. Suzette noticed briefly — once again — just how young the woman

seemed to be. Mrs. Aldridge. That was her name. She looked much too young to be a "Mrs.," thought Suzette. And, perhaps, too

attractive.


"Bondage," said Mrs. Aldridge again, more firmly this time. "Domination. Whips. Chains. Restraints. Manacles. S&M." Her eyes held

Suzette's, and even if Suzette had wanted to look away, she would have been unable.


"Yes," said Suzette. It was the only thing she could think of to say.


"Leather underwear," the woman continued. "All manner of sex toys." She leaned closer to Suzette and looked at her very carefully.

"Perhaps I should be more specific — penetrative sex toys." She said it "Pen-e-TRAY-tiv," so that it took Suzette a moment to understand

what she meant, and to form a clear mental image.


"Oh," Suzette mumbled nervously. "Of course. Yes. Certainly."


Mrs. Aldridge was leaning against the edge of her desk, her already somewhat tight skirt riding up a little on her thighs. Suzette could

— just barely — see the lacy tops of Mrs. Aldridge's black stockings, and could see that the woman wore a garter belt rather than stay-ups

or pantyhose. For some reason this embarrassed Suzette, and she caught herself looking just a little too long at the hem of Mrs. Aldridge's

skirt. Mrs. Aldridge saw it, too, and demurely tugged the hem down to cover the tops of her stockings.


Suzette blushed as she looked up at Mrs. Aldridge, who waited for several long seconds before letting Suzette see the barest hint of a

smile at the corner of her mouth. Then the smile was gone, and Mrs. Aldridge had shifted again, casually letting her silk business jacket

fall open a little. Suzette's blush deepened. Mrs. Aldridge leaned forward, very close to Suzette, and the shadow of her cleavage deepened

slightly. Mrs. Aldridge was wearing a somewhat low-cut beige camisole under her black business suit. The fact that the camisole was a

light color made the outline of her breasts that much more evident.


Suzette usually didn't take such notice of the details of other women's wardrobes. But she was so concerned at making a good impression

— she ran through her own wardrobe over and over again in her head. This was Suzette's first job interview out of college, and she had

almost no idea what would be expected of her in the corporate world. Certainly she had gone through a lot of stress trying to figure out

what she should wear to the interview. Why, she had changed clothes three times just this afternoon, each time soliciting an opinion from a

very sleepy Samantha — Suzette's roommate, who always went to bed at dawn. Each time Samantha pronounced Suzette beautiful and then buried

her head under the pillow. Even now, with the interview proceeding, Suzette was wondering if she shouldn't have worn the black suit, rather

than the borrowed blouse and skirt — the suit was more flattering to Suzette's figure, but was a little too tight on her. That was why

Suzette had opted for the white blouse (borrowed from Samantha) and knee-length black skirt (borrowed from her friend Susan) — she didn't

want to look like too sexy for her first job interview, she thought that would be undignified. It wasn't like Suzette had all that much

choice — she only had the clothes she had been able to borrow or steal, and the black suit had come as a loan from Suzette's sister Amelia,

who was a size smaller than Suzette. The black suit looked great on Suzette, even if it was just a hair too tight — but it was a

power-suit, made for an aggressive businesswoman who commanded all she saw, and Suzette wasn't sure she was there yet. And so Suzette had

gone for the somewhat more restrained silk skirt and blouse. But from the way the office looked, the suit would have been much more

appropriate. It was a very small office on the fortieth floor of a downtown skyscraper. But it looked very professional. The receptionist

out front was dressed extremely well, in a fitted business suit and high heels — even if, as Suzette had noticed, the woman's blouse was a

bit more low-cut, the jacket of her suit was quite a bit tighter, and its skirt a bit shorter, than Suzette had expected to see in an

office. Mrs. Aldridge's clothes were also power-broker all the way, plainly very expensive, and not as provocative as the receptionist's.

And Mrs. Aldridge wore those clothes beautifully; she looked like an advertisement for the high-powered corporate executive lifestyle.

Suzette was more than a little fascinated by the commanding Mrs. Aldridge. She wondered for a moment whether perhaps — if she got the job —

Mrs. Aldridge would be willing to give her a few tips on assembling her corporate wardrobe. Suzette knew she certainly needed some advice —

all through college, she had gone completely casual, and her job at the campus paper didn't require her to dress up at all. Suzette had

spent the last four years of her life wearing jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers. That would have to change, she knew, if she was ever going to

compete in the corporate job market. Suzette felt a vague sense of excitement as she thought about all the things she would do to beautify

her corporate image. But Mrs. Aldridge's voice brought her interest back to the matter at hand.


"Leather restraints, ropes, manacles — steel ones. Whipping posts, stocks, pillories." Mrs. Aldridge looked very hard at Suzette.

"Cages, Suzette. Cages. Women in cages, collared like animals, on their knees. Women depicted in all manner of sexual submission to men —

and to other women. Of course —" she waved her hand dismissively — "there's no actual penetration shown, or anything of that sort. But

it's certainly implied by the sorts of things we sell."


"Yes," said Suzette nervously.


"And men shown in submission to women," Mrs. Aldridge continued. "Men on their knees, their genitals bound in complicated fashions,

licking the boots of the mistresses they serve. Pleasuring them orally." Suzette listened, fascinated and somewhat horrified — horrified

more by the obvious relish with which Mrs. Aldridge spoke, rather than the things she was saying. In fact, Suzette's fascination grew less

and less academic as the conversation — if it could properly be called a "conversation" — continued. "Men being... penetrated. Do you

understand?"


Suzette thought about it, but she wasn't sure. She could figure it out, sort of. But then Suzette decided she wanted to hear Mrs.

Aldridge saying it, even though she had a rough idea what the woman meant.


"No," said Suzette breathlessly. "Tell me what you mean."


The look on Mrs. Aldridge's face expressed deep concern, even trepidation.


"Women wearing dildos," said Mrs. Aldridge. "And penetrating men with them."


"Yes?" whispered Suzette, as if she didn't understand.


"Anally," continued Mrs. Aldridge, with overwhelming seriousness.


"Oh yes," said Suzette quickly, her face brightening. "I see what you mean." Suzette was quite sure there was going to be a point here

somewhere, but she couldn't imagine just what it was going to be.


Mrs. Aldridge leaned very close, so that Suzette could even smell Mrs. Aldridge's subtle perfume.


"Cock and ball torture," she said distinctly.


"Oh my," said Suzette. "Uh, yes," she continued nervously. "Definitely. Of course. Certainly." This was a job interview, after

all.


Suzette was getting a little concerned. She wasn't sure what Mrs. Aldridge was getting at — but, thankfully, the woman made herself

clear with her very next sentence. Mrs. Aldridge looked intently into Suzette's and watched her reactions very closely.


"Does any of this... disturb you?"


Suzette thought about it a long time before saying "No."


It was true. Suzette had never really thought about it all that much, at least not in this context. But she certainly wasn't offended

by all the things Mrs. Aldridge had mentioned. The way Suzette saw it, any sort of sexual game was more likely to be interesting than

offensive, as long as both parties were enjoying it. And everything that Mrs. Aldridge had mentioned certainly sounded — to the admittedly

inexperienced Suzette, at least — to involve enjoyment by both parties.


Suzette wasn't exactly kinky, but she had enjoyed plenty of sex during her college years, and sometimes that sex hadn't been entirely

tame. From her first sexual experiences, Suzette had enjoyed a wide range of sexual interactions, and bondage had been a part of that here

and there. She had been tied up by three — no, four — of her boyfriends, and each time she'd enjoyed herself immensely, wanting to go

further. Her fantasies, more often than not, centered around some kind of restraint, imprisonment, or sexual service. She had never really

thought that was unusual, but now she supposed it might be. But Suzette never would have thought of herself as someone who was interested

in S&M or anything like that. As Mrs. Aldridge had read off the list of deadly sins, however, Suzette had felt a little curiosity, a little

excitement flowing through her. She knew that her breath was coming more quickly, and she felt a little warm. She could feel sweat forming

on her back. Nervously, Suzette crossed her legs.


Well, the job sure sounded more interesting than shuffling papers at a law firm or something.


"Does it...interest you?"


Suzette felt a little nervous at the way Mrs. Aldridge asked that. She managed to stay casual, however. She answered with a shrug and a

matter-of-fact "Oh yes." She added quickly: "Just a little. Not too much. I mean, sure it interests me. But... uh... I don't think I

would find it distracting or anything."


"You don't think you'll be...offended by the subject matter?"


Suzette's mind filled with nervous pictures of the images she might be subjected to. She almost burst out laughing. She felt sure that

whatever she would see on the job would be less bizarre than the mental images she had just conjured up.


"No, not at all," said Suzette, laughing nervously, remembering what her guidance counselor had said about being relaxed. "Oh, it takes

a whole lot to offend me. A whole lot. Lots and lots." Suzette's voice trailed off uncomfortably.


Mrs. Aldridge smiled. "Women in submission? In service to men? On their knees, performing tasks that some might find... degrading?

You don't find that bothersome or offensive? Not even a little bit?"


Suzette nervously shook her head. She suddenly felt a little afraid that Mrs. Aldridge could see her nipples through the blouse she

wore. Oh shit, thought Suzette. I should have worn a bra instead of this stupid camisole. In fact, she was sure of it. She was sure her

nipples were quite evident through the thin silk of the blouse. Why had they gotten so firm all of a sudden?


Suzette desperately wanted to cross her arms in front of her chest, but she thought that would draw more attention to it, make it more

obvious. So she sat still with some difficulty, tensing when she noticed that Mrs. Aldridge's eyes dropped oh-so-briefly down to the level

of Suzette's breasts. If anything, Suzette felt like her nipples were now that much more obvious.


"And — importantly — women making love with other women? Perhaps on their knees, dominated, humbled, worshipping another woman? That

doesn't bother you?"


Suzette had a fair amount of difficulty answering, with the intense way Mrs. Aldridge was looking at her.


"Not at all," Suzette finally said, calmly. Then, nervously, she added: "My roommate's bisexual. And my best friend from college is

gay. It doesn't bother me at all. I'm very open."


Mrs. Aldridge looked at Suzette for a long moment before turning away. Suzette felt the tension drain out of her body, and she nervously

shifted, turning to the side so that her breasts were less evident. It was very warm in here.


"Very well," said Mrs. Aldridge, walking around the desk and seating herself behind it. "I don't by any means insist that you be a

devotee of the sorts of things we sell in our catalogs. But I do insist that you approve of it. The majority of our customers are men, but

a very large number of them are women — fully 30%, by our most recent survey. The catalog is geared toward both sexes. But as you probably

know, photos of women usually encourage sales more than photos of men — in our market, at least. Therefore, many of our photo scenes

involve two women, though they're certainly not aimed exclusively at lesbian women. Our strategy is to show our equipment being used in hot

scenes, thus encouraging the customer to buy it — and reenact her own hot scenes. Or his."


Suzette was a little less nervous now that Mrs. Aldridge was behind the desk. But she had begun to think about how exciting the job

would be. She would get to learn all about different kinds of sex — things she had never experienced! Suzette shifted uncomfortably,

feeling her inner thighs giving off little tingles of excitement.


"And to present those exciting experiences as convincingly as possible, we need an accomplished layout artist who can put together a

top-notch catalog. Our catalogs are eighty pages or more, and so, as you can imagine, it's a lot of work putting one together."


"I can imagine," said Suzette quickly, trying to keep her mind focused on the conversation and not let it stray off into what the "hot

scenes" depicted in the catalog might entail. She wasn't entirely successful.


"Wh—where do you get the photographs?" blurted Suzette, and immediately wished she'd kept her mouth shut.


Mrs. Aldridge smiled faintly.


"I supervise all of our photo acquisitions," she said. "And I work firsthand with all our photographers. We have a dedicated stable of

commercial photographers who have worked with us before, know what we like, know what we're trying to achieve in our photos. I personally

supervise every photo shoot to ensure that it meets our business objectives."


Suzette couldn't stop herself from asking the next question. "And the models?"


Mrs. Aldridge's eyes seemed to betray a hint of mischief as she let long moments pass before answering.


"All our catalog photos show the actual equipment, being used exactly as it would be used by the consumer, in a scene in her — or his —

home — or dungeon. Our models are often commercial models, but they are also real people — who enjoy what they do. On and off camera."
/>

Suzette felt a tingle go through her body as she tried to decipher that answer. In a way it didn't leave much to the imagination — but

in another way, it did...Suzette's heart pounded.


"There are three employees at this location — you would be the fourth. Sasha, she's the receptionist, you met her. She's very nice.

She handles some of our general office work, and takes phone orders. Then there's Katrina Bixby, who is our sales representative. She

takes our business to consumer establishments — a wide variety of shops, not just your garden-variety sleaze joints — and handles our

commercial accounts and bulk discounts. Then there's me — I'm Executive Director, and I run things. You would be the fourth employee — I'm

afraid we've been without a layout artist for some weeks now, and the catalog is very overdue. We'll start losing business if we don't get

a catalog out within the next month or so. That is going to be quite a challenge. Do you think you would be up to that sort of thing?"
/>

"Definitely," blurted Suzette. "I love a challenge." That was the sort of thing her career counselor had told her to say, and it

sounded wooden and awkward coming from her mouth, which felt uncomfortably dry at the moment — had she been mouth-breathing?


"Ah yes," said Mrs. Aldridge. "And then there's my husband, David. He is involved at a number of different levels, but most days he's

off-site, managing our other business."


"Your other business," said Suzette, remembering something the guidance counselor had said about sounding interested in the totality of

the business, not just the part that affected you. "Which is?" she asked brightly.


Mrs. Aldridge looked very serious.


"Goat cheese."


"Goat cheese?"


"Goat cheese. There's a big future in it."


Suzette was so nervous, she wouldn't have been able to laugh even if her brain had been able to comprehend the absurdity of that

statement. Luckily, it wasn't, so it was a moot point.


Mrs. Aldridge quickly changed the subject. "I don't mind telling you," she said, "I was quite impressed by your portfolio. You did a

lot of excellent work," she said. "Work with real commercial potential. My main reservation is that you haven't done any work in a

sexually-related industry."


Suzette's mind raced. Oh no, she thought. I should have put it on the resume. I'm not going to get the job because of that.... but she

could hardly tell Mrs. Aldridge now! Well...maybe she had to. Suzette made a split-second decision.


Suzette blushed as she quickly said, "I — well, actually I have."


Mrs. Aldridge seemed surprised. "Really? Of what sort?"


Suzette figured she may as well give the whole story, rather than trying to filter out what Mrs. Aldridge wanted to hear.


"I used to be a dancer," said Suzette. "I mean exotic dancing — I did a lot of ballet, too, when I was younger, but... what I mean to

say is that I did exotic dancing. When I was in college, for the first two years. I did bachelor parties. Bar openings. Auto races.

That sort of thing."


Mrs. Aldridge looked visibly impressed. "Auto races?"


Suzette shrugged. "Well... only one of those. Mostly bachelor parties."


Suzette wasn't really telling Mrs. Aldridge the whole story. The whole story was a little more sordid than that — but Suzette wasn't

ready to go into it just yet. Maybe later.


Mrs. Aldridge nodded. "Well, that certainly counts as sex work, in my mind at least. Why didn't you put it on the resume?"


Suzette was about to give her a serious answer when Mrs. Aldridge smiled and winked, and Suzette realized the woman was kidding her.
/>

"Well, that experience can be very important here. It's crucial that you be completely comfortable with the kinds of sexuality that we

display in our catalog. We encourage consensual behavior, and negotiation. But sometimes... well, we've had a number of layout artists who

simply got offended once they started laying out the catalog. I would hate to have that happen again."


"Oh, it wouldn't," said Suzette, too quickly. "I'm sure it wouldn't."


"Yes," said Mrs. Aldridge, reaching out to press a button on the side of the desk. In a few short seconds, the door opened and Sasha,

the receptionist, appeared.


"Yes, Mrs. Aldridge?"


"Sasha, would you be so kind as to bring Ms. Sullivan a few of our back catalogs? So she can see what she's getting into?" Mrs.

Aldridge gave Suzette that faint, enigmatic smile.


"Right away, Mrs. Aldridge." Sasha hurried off to get the catalogs.


"You've seen our documents about benefits, sick days, salary reviews, that sort of thing. You'll find that we're a very professional

office, so your dress is of paramount importance. We obviously don't see most of our customers in the office, but we do occasionally have

national sales representatives come by, and it's critical that you dress with the professionalism that shows pride in your work." Mrs.

Aldridge glanced over Suzette's clothes, and Suzette shifted nervously. "What you have on is acceptable, though you might want to...spruce

it up a bit. Go for the power-suit look."


Suzette was mortified, but she managed to hide her embarrassment even as Mrs. Aldridge looked her up and down more carefully.


"We can talk," said Mrs. Aldridge. "Ah, here's Sasha with your catalogs. Anything else you would like to ask me?"


Suzette shook her head as she took the catalogs from Sasha. Suzette's eyes went wide and she tried to look away from the photos on the

covers of the catalogs. Suzette quickly dropped the catalogs into her valise. Sasha disappeared back into the front office, but left the

door open.


"Excellent," said Mrs. Aldridge, standing up and extending her hand for a handshake. "We're interviewing several other candidates, and

we'll get in touch with you within a week."


Suzette shook the woman's hand and said "Thank you, Mrs. Aldridge."


Mrs. Aldridge looked puzzled for a second, then smiled. "Oh yes, of course, Sasha. You see, we like to maintain a professional image, a

corporate demeanor. She's afraid she'll forget to refer to me as Mrs. Aldridge on the phone, so she calls me that all the time." Mrs.

Aldridge's eyes sparkled. "But you can call me by my first name. Which is Candace. Or better yet — Bunny."


Suzette could almost feel her hair curling. "Thank you," she managed to say without laughing. "Bunny."


"I'll be speaking with you soon, Suzette."


"Thanks. Uh, Bunny."





* * * *





Out in the front office, Sasha was seated behind the reception desk. She motioned Suzette over.


"She likes you," said Sasha with an emotionless tone to her voice. "Did she mention cock and ball torture?"


Suzette looked at Sasha, who was perhaps a couple of years older than Suzette, DARK-HAIRED and quite attractive. But she seemed so cold,

distant, aloof — even now, with her conspiratorial whispers, she was without emotion.


"I think so," said Suzette. "Yes, she did."


Sasha went back to stuffing envelopes. "Then she likes you. Good luck."


Nervously, Suzette left the office and closed the door behind her. It all came down to cock and ball torture? That was hardly the most

shocking thing Suzette expected to see.





* * * *





Waiting for the elevator, Suzette felt the tension flooding out of her. She had made it — she had survived her first interview! She

felt a giddy excitement, even felt a little drunk. She had that euphoric feeling she used to get when she pulled an all-nighter and turned

a paper in at six in the morning and then knew that she wouldn't sleep all day. It was as if she was made out of energy. As she waited for

the elevator, she went over the interview in her head, wondering if she'd done everything right. There was no question that this wasn't

your usual job — certainly the bondage and S&M angle made it different than what Suzette had expected. But the money was good, and Suzette

felt more than a little excitement at the prospect of working with all those naked bodies. Laying out those dirty photos, trying to get the

maximum sexual charge out of them for the reader — to encourage him to buy the company's product. Or her.


Suzette stepped into the elevator. She was alone, and for a second her mind flitted over the catalogs in her valise.


As the elevator went slowly down, Suzette opened her valise just long enough to catch a glimpse of the lurid photos on the cover of one

of them. She looked up nervously, then reached down and began to page through the catalog, leaving it in her valise. Immediately Suzette

felt a sexual charge growing in her body, as she flipped through the pages upon pages of naked women, restrained in various complicated

ways, in a variety of submissive postures. Suzette caught one spread that particularly intrigued her, and before she knew what she was

doing, she'd slipped the catalog out of her valise and was staring, wide-eyed, at the photograph.


The elevator bell went off, and Suzette gasped as the doors opened. She almost had a heart attack as she threw the catalog back into her

valise and clutched it to her body. She was only on the thirty-fourth floor, and two staid-looking businessmen in suits were getting on the

elevator. Damn, this thing was slow! Suzette realized that as the door opened, the two men might have gotten a glimpse of what she was

reading. And her embarrassment must have been evident — she could feel her face flushing hot. One of the men, in his mid-forties, with

graying hair at the temples but not at all bad-looking, didn't seem to notice, but simply stood behind Suzette reading his newspaper. The

other guy, younger and with darker hair, gave Suzette a knowing glance and then glanced at her valise. He stood a respectful distance, but

Suzette's embarrassment deepened as she stood, trying not to look at the man. She realized how cute he was. The cut of his suit accented

his athletic body. Suzette wondered if he worked out. She noticed again how cute he was, and that he was staring at her. She looked

down.


Another floor, and three more people got on, all men. Damn. Suzette had forgotten that it was rush hour, so it would be hell getting

home. The elevator began to smell faintly of male flesh, something Suzette, to her horror, found herself liking. She had gone to school in

a small college town hundreds of miles from the city, and hadn't been in elevators all that much. They made her nervous, in part because

she sort of liked them. It excited her to be in a small, enclosed space, close to people she didn't know and would never know. Since she

had moved to the city, Suzette had had more than a few fantasies about elevators. In fact, fully against her will, she was starting to have

one right now.


I wonder if you could stop one of these between floors, she was thinking. With a guy, I mean. Maybe Rob. Or Paul. Suzette was a

little shocked at herself, thinking about Samantha's boyfriend like that, but it's not like she hadn't done it before. Stop the elevator

between floors. Some time when the building is really crowded, so everyone has to wait for you to finish. But you could take your time.

He could come up behind me — she had switched from the theoretical "you" to the concrete "I," and even though she was horrified, she

couldn't stop the fantasy that was forming in her mind — And press me against the wall, I would be wearing a little black dress, something

really short, nothing on underneath, and he could enter me from behind...while everyone on every floor is waiting for the elevator, but they

would just have to wait for him to fuck me, fuck me right, fuck me nice and slow, taking his time sliding it in...pushing it in me from

behind while everyone waits...and they know what we're doing in here...they know it's me...


The fantasy flowed through her mind in seconds, fully-formed, and the image of her ass under the dress, pushed back to take her lover's

thrusts, echoed in her mind.


Suzette's fantasy vanished with the loud bell of another floor — Thirty-two. Jesus Christ!


But the excitement still flowed through her. Now she was certain her nipples were showing through her blouse!


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The Office - The Office Trilogy Book 1

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