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.
"Whwhere 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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