Chapter 1

Theresa got plenty of attention as she walked through the hallways of the Pentagon, the personal items from her desk in a cardboard box. It was something she was used to. There weren't a lot of civilian women working there and none of them looked like Theresa, with her long blonde hair and her Barbie doll body. She didn't necessarily like the lustful looks but she didn't dress to discourage them.

Her white blouse clung tightly to her full double D's and the neckline showed a good hands-breadth of cleavage in which dangled a tear-drop moonstone bound in white gold. Her black skirt hugged hips and ass so shapely that they suggested a few variants in her mostly European ancestry. The skirt was so busy squeezing her backside that it completely forgot to go down anywhere near her knees. The majority of Theresa's long and shapely legs were covered only by white nylons, their curves enhanced by black stiletto pumps. It was really inevitable that men would stare and she had resolved herself to it rather than sacrifice her favorite fashions.

Still, compared to her weekend clothes, her current outfit was tame. The jaw-dropping and eye-popping were more prominent today, since she had never been in this part of the building. She would probably spend the next couple of weeks disappointing another batch of hopeless hopefuls, but that wasn't the cause of the perplexed frown on her strong but feminine face.

Rather, it was that she had been transferred, just like that, with no warning or explanation to a division she had never heard of. Her former supervisor didn't know anything about it either, only that the order had come from high up. Hell, nobody could even tell her what her new position was! Had she been promoted? Demoted? Would her pay change? The division head would explain, she was told. And who was the division head? Again, she got nothing. Nothing but a room number and an appointment time.

So here she was, three stories underground in the newly formed Division of Special Projects. The man at the desk in the antechamber was a young civilian who noticeably sat up straighter when she entered the room. The two guards standing at either side of the Division Head's office door only allowed their eyes to betray their interest in her body, which they could always claim was a search for weapons. She would have had to have been very creative to smuggle anything inside that particular skirt, she thought with a smirk.

"I'm here to report to the division head," she told the young man. "Theresa Torgasen."

"Ms. Torgasen. Right on time," he said. "Go right in."

One of the guards opened the door for her. She put a neutral look on her face and went in. The plush office was far from standard issue. The new boss obviously knew how to work the system. He was in a chair behind a large mahogany desk, but swiveled so that only an arm was visible.

"Theresa Torgasen reporting for duty," she said. The man turned to face her and gave her a huge grin. It was a grin she recognized.

"Hey there TT," he said.

"Peter?" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

"It's my office," he said. "My Division."

"No fucking way!" she said. "So, how on earth did you wind up here?" she asked. "When you left our division, they were sending you off to do shit-work, weren't they?"

"They were," Peter concurred. "They had me going through a bunch of old files and boxes they found in a forgotten closet. And that's how I wound up in my current position."

"Huh?" asked Theresa.

"Well, there was all this old shit in their left over from the cold war," he explained. "Have you ever heard of the Mata Hari project?"

"No," she said.

"Well, you see, back during the cold war, the Department had a big problem by being infiltrated by female spies. Mostly Russian but a few Cubans, East Germans and Chinese as well. Too many high-ups couldn't keep their dicks in their pants or their mouths shut once the former were out."

Theresa chuckled. She had personal knowledge of just how susceptible men in the department to a pretty pair of tits and a nice ass.

"So, after a rather embarrassing incident with a former Secretary that was just barely kept out of the papers, one of the psy-ops folks proposed a research project to counter the barrage of commie babe-age. He called it the Mata Hari project and he claimed he could develop techniques and technology that could turn these ladies to our side. The way he had it figured, fighting the urges of the men in the Department would always be a loosing battle. But if we could influence the women in such a way that they would continue to service their targets, but out of love for the good-ole USA rather than in order to pump out information, our men would be much more likely to turn in their flirtatious foreign floosies. And once they had gotten it out of their system, we could even send the ladies back to spy for us! It was a brilliant plan, really."

Theresa agreed it was a brilliant, all be it sexist, plan. And it was an interesting story. But somehow, she was having a hard time focusing on it. It just seemed so warm in the office suddenly. There was an odd buzzing in her head, and a more distracting buzzing lower down. She tried to focus on what Peter was saying as he told her about million dollar budgets, prostitutes brought in and paid to be research subjects, hints of impropriety and misuse of funds, investigations cut short, pay offs and blackmail, all fascinating stuff, but Theresa only half listened. Her mind was drifting, floating in a comfortable fog. Her body squirmed in the seat, less comfortable and it tingled and her panties dampened.

"... I believe he's currently living under the name of Fink. He seems to be using the technology he developed in the private sector. Runs a company called 'BimboTech Incorporated' of all things."

"BimboTech..." Theresa repeated and giggled, not sure what was funny.

"But once I found his notes and working models there in that closet, I knew I'd stumbled onto something that I could really take advantage of," Peter continued, smiling at her. "And with some careful and clever maneuvering, I got myself placed as head of this division. And once I had this power, you were the first person I thought of. I knew that I wanted to have you work for me. To work under me. So now I'm your boss."

Theresa nodded. That was true. He was her boss.

"You're going to really like working under me, Theresa," Peter continued to explain. "You'll find it very, very satisfying. But it's important that you do as I say. I'm your boss. You need to do what I tell you, right?"

"Yes..." Theresa agreed. "Do what you tell me. You're the boss...

"It was true, of course. He was her boss. She needed to do as she was told. It seemed obvious, but he continued explaining it to her for a good five minutes. Maybe she needed it. She seemed to be having a hard time thinking. It was just so warm. And she was horny. Distractingly so. She squirmed in her seat. Something odd was going on. She was vaguely aware of that. But she couldn't really focus on figuring out what it was. It wasn't what Peter was saying. Everything he said was perfectly true. He was her boss. She liked working for him. She needed to do what he told her. She wanted to be a good employee. All perfectly reasonable, all undeniable. But something was odd. Maybe it was just that the room was so warm, her nipples so hard, her pussy so wet and tingly.

"So the first step is to get you dressed more appropriately for your new position," Peter was saying. Previous supervisors had spoken to her about how she dressed and she did try to keep it professional without being painfully dull. She wouldn't have expected a complaint from Peter, though. She had always thought he appreciated how she dressed back when they had worked together. In fact, he had always seemed more than a little fond of ogling her.

"I'm not sure how I want you to dress your first day, though," he continued. "So I figured that I'd have you try out three different outfits and see which is best.

"Theresa blinked. That was unexpected. She looked at Peter to see if he was joking. He was smiling, yes, but not in a joking way as he placed three boxes on the edge of his desk and a pair of gaudy shoes behind each. Theresa stared, confused.

"Come now, TT, this is part of your job. I'm your boss and you need to follow my orders. Try this one on first.

"That was enough to spur Theresa into action. She couldn't think of what else to do and Peter seemed so confident, so decisive. She got out of her seat and went to the box he had indicated, the one matched with a red leather pair of knee-high boots with platform heels and heart-shaped cut outs going up each calf. Inside the box was a negligee made mostly of red lace hearts strung together. She had never worn anything this daring to work before, of course, or anywhere outside her bedroom. She was very confused.

"Come on, TT," said Peter. "You're an important part of this project but I do have other things I have to do. We only have two more hours and we have a lot to accomplish. Hurry up and get out of your street clothes and put on your work clothes.

"A bit of encouragement was all she needed. This was part of her job. She had to do her job. It was so much easier to do what she was told than to try and think. She undressed. It was an easy, automatic thing to do. Something she did every day. Not at work, not in front of Peter, but those were just details. She didn't want to think about details. God she was horny! She draped her blouse and skirt over the back of her chair. She reached back to unclasp her bra, releasing her ample bosom. Peter was breathing heavily and she looked up to see him smiling hungrily at her. She hesitated briefly, but he gestured at her to hurry up.

This was her job. This was her duty. She didn't have to think about it. She didn't want to think about it. The bra joined the blouse and skirt on the chair back and her nipples, already swollen from her arousal, became even harder in the suddenly cool air of the room. It was a simple thing to remove her shoes, her stockings, her garters and panties. She released the clip that held her long blonde hair back and stood before her old friend and new boss quite naked. She hardly had time and certainly had no will to consider that, however. Peter was urging her to try on her new work clothes. She took the red heart negligee and put it on. It was not as automatic for her as undressing had been. She had to think a bit about how to put it on and she trembled a bit, confused as to how this was part of her job, but with just a little urging from Peter, she pushed through her confusion and stretched the tight fitting mesh over her full breasts and worked the thong between her round, pale ass cheeks. The boots took almost no thought at all and soon she stood there in her work outfit, feeling very pleased with herself at having accomplished her assigned task.

"Very good, TT," Peter praised, reinforcing her good feeling. "You are a very good employee. I can tell you're going to like working under me."

"Yes," she agreed.

"But you must be terribly horny by now," he observed. "Are you horny, TT?" Theresa blushed. How had he known? Was it that obvious?" Yes," she confessed. He was her boss, after all. It was important to tell him the truth, to answer all his questions. "I'm really horny."

"Well, that's to be expected," Peter said. "But I don't want you to suffer needlessly. So your next assignment is to masturbate.

"Theresa's eyes went wide. She wanted to, of course. She was painfully horny. But here at work? In front of Peter?" Masturbate?" she asked.

"Of course," said Peter. "When you're horny, it's perfectly natural to masturbate. If you're so horny at work that you can't focus on your assigned tasks, I expect you to relieve yourself. Vigorously. So you need to masturbate now. It's part of your job.

"Almost of its own volition, Theresa's hand went to her crotch. Her moist pussy kissed and sucked passionately at her fingers. All hesitation flew as her hand returned the affection, fingers pressing and stroking her grateful cunt. Her other hand went up to roughly grasp one of her tits and her eyes rolled back in her head. It felt so good! She pinched a nipple and sparks of pleasure exploded from it, traveling down her spine to ignite her clitty. She pressed the heel of her lower hand against her little pleasure knob as her fingers pushed the fabric of her work clothes to one side and began to probe deeper and deeper into her cunt. Theresa had masturbated before, of course, but never with such urgency, such imperative. Before it was for pleasure; now it was part of her job. And she so wanted to do well at her job! She moaned as she pushed her three middle fingers into her dripping twat and fell to her knees. Without missing a beat, she continued to maul her pussy and tit.

"You're doing very, very well, TT." said Peter.

"Tha... tha... thank you!" she said, pumping harder. Her fingers were starting to ache. She needed to change hands. She did so quickly, changing tits as well. She wanted to show her new boss to know she was a hard worker.

"Marvelous work, TT," he praised. "You take your work seriously, don't you? You're going to go far in this position, I can tell! But perhaps another position might help you maximize your efforts.

"He knelt beside her, placed one hand on her bare back underneath her hair and another on the tit that she had abandoned in favor of its twin. He eased her backward until her head rested on the floor. She continued to vigorously masturbate as she did so and his strong hand on her back and boob only heightened her frenzied arousal. Now she lay on the soft, satiny carpeting. It felt luxurious on her skin, as if it had been made for just such a purpose. Her feet stayed tucked under, near her ass, but she was able to spread her knees much wider, allowing better access to her grateful pussy. Her boss was right--not having to worry about staying upright truly helped her focus on the task at hand. His hand disappeared from her tit as he got up. She whimpered but didn't stop. He left her field of vision but soon returned.