It was a big event for the assembled staff, the introduction on Monday afternoon of their new boss. Something of a surprise too. Not so much the arrival of a woman to head up an otherwise all-male department (the 21st century, after all, and besides they already knew that a newcomer called 'Melissa Reynolds' had been appointed) but more her age and appearance. Melissa looked to be no more than late twenties, young for such an exalted position, and she was strikingly attractive. The new Head of Department had been buzzing around in her room for the last few minutes, the large 'HOD' office which looked out across the open plan space where they all worked, and they could tell through the half open blinds that she was quite something. When she finally swept out of her door and into their room to talk to them, they got complete confirmation of that.
Melissa Reynolds had the sort of looks men fantasise about. She was a medium tall brunette with a knockout figure: long shapely legs, high firm tits, a great ass, the works. Her face was pretty, heart-stoppingly so with its flawless olive complexion, the dark flashing eyes, the wide vivacious mouth and generous lips, and it was perfectly framed by her cascading, lustrously wavy hair. As she stood now at the front of the room holding forth on her vision, her plans for the department, the changes she was looking to make bla bla, the twelve members of the audience, away from their desks and seated together for the occasion in two rows of six chairs, struggled to concentrate on the message rather than the messenger.
Melissa's outfit did nothing to quell the excitement. Her dark grey pencil skirt was just above the knee, fell smooth and snug over her hips and buttocks; her white silk blouse was buttoned low and gave a generous hint of the delights within; sheer tights and high heels completed the look. She exuded glamour and sexiness.
The men were spellbound. Christ, were they really going to be working for a hottie like this? Bring it on!
Only one of them had negative feelings about the new arrival. Roger Hargreaves was the most senior employee in the department; he'd been working there forever and had expected the job she'd taken to be his as a matter of course. Roger couldn't believe he'd been passed over in favour of this woman from outside who was at least twenty five years his junior. He was burning with resentment as he sat there with the others. Frustration too, since what he really felt like doing, which was resign and storm off to pastures new, he couldn't do. He needed the income from his job and the bleak economic situation meant that he'd unlikely get another one anytime soon. He'd just have to swallow his pride and suck it up, basically. Try to get on with this 'Melissa Reynolds' as best he could and hope she turned out a reasonable boss. She was certainly a looker, he thought, and despite his antipathy he found his eyes joining those of everybody else's, glued to Melissa's undulating hips and ass as she strolled back and forth at the front of the room. God, the woman was gorgeous!
Roger felt a twitch in his pants, the beginnings of a hard-on. It'd been a long time. Five years since his divorce and absolutely nothing since. He'd rather gone to seed, in truth, he knew that. He'd never been much of a hit with the ladies at the best of times (very few were looking for 'mid-fifties, short, balding, bespectacled, ' let's face it) but he'd shovelled on weight recently (so add 'chubby' to that) and in his increasing loneliness and sexual deprivation had taken to drinking way too much.
His gaze lingered yearningly on the hem of Melissa's sexy skirt as she paraded around. Her legs were simply stunning! More than just the beginnings of a hard-on now. Oh god.
Roger glanced around nervously. Was he the only one being affected in this way by their delectable new female boss? No, he could detect a general stirring of libido in the room. He felt reassured by this but also concerned ... concerned that Melissa might be detecting it too, and that she might not particularly appreciate being ogled by a bunch of guys who now worked for her, might be a little annoyed even. Let's hope she doesn't realise, he thought.
Melissa did realise, of course. She knew exactly the impact she was having on her assembled employees. How could she not, the way they were drooling? As for her being irritated, however, Roger needn't have worried, she was the opposite of that. She'd have been annoyed if they HADN'T been ogling.
Melissa Reynolds was a woman very familiar with her mesmerising effect on the male of the species and she thoroughly enjoyed it. Not only that, she used it to her advantage, had done so many times, often quite ruthlessly. Landing this job, for example: her looks weren't the only reason, she was smart and tough-minded, but it sure didn't harm that Mike Bryant, the company CEO, fancied the pants off her, had made as much clear during the final interview. Melissa had gamed him to perfection. She'd been professional for the most part, demonstrated her ability to do the job, that she was no bimbo, but she'd also flirted and teased a little; not enough to compromise herself but just enough to give Mike the hint of future possibilities ... if he played his cards right.
Starting with offering her the job, naturally, which he almost fell over himself to do.
Today, her first day, she'd spent the morning down with personnel, getting all the introductory stuff dealt with, and had then been taken to lunch by Mike, just the two of them. Mike had stepped up the flirting and Melissa had relaxed and led him on, revelling in the attentions of a powerful older man who so obviously wanted to get into her knickers. Maybe one day she'd let him, she mused, he was certainly attractive enough for the prospect to appeal. He'd have to work for it, though. Melissa liked to keep men dangling for a while before she even considered putting out. That was part of the fun of being a beautiful woman, the power it gave her. Melissa understood this power, found it intoxicating, and she loved to use (and abuse!) it
Like, over lunch, in amongst all the flirting, she'd secured the smitten CEO's agreement to her running the department completely free of interference from any other part of the company. 'Sure, Melissa, it's your show, ' said Mike, dragging his eyes from her magnificent cleavage. 'Whatever you wanna do, just do.'
'Why thank you, kind sir, ' pouted Melissa, feeling Mike's knee press against hers under the table. She pressed back for an instant and then giggled and shifted an inch or two away. 'And you'll memo that to everybody, Mike, will you? That I'm free to run things however I want?'
'Yeah. Do it soon as we get back. You're meeting them all at three o'clock, right?'
'Ok, so they'll have it by then. They'll know the score.'
And he had. The memo from the CEO had hit the screens a few minutes before Melissa had gone in to introduce herself. The memo made it clear that Melissa had been hired to shake things up in the department, that she had carte-blanche to make any changes (processes, personnel, organisation, whatever) she considered fit, and that no dissent would be tolerated. It would be her personal fiefdom. She was Queen Bee.
As she spoke, Melissa was studying Roger Hargreaves. Jeez, what a loser! He looked even less impressive than the photo on his file, she thought, which took some doing. What a risible contrast to the alpha male of similar age she'd just had lunch with!
Mike had briefed her about Roger during their lunch. She'd heard how he was 'part of the furniture', that he was at least ten years older than anybody else in the department, that no way was he 'HOD material' but that he was 'fucking devastated, silly bastard' not to have gotten the promotion, all of which had rather amused her. 'Old Hargreaves will be delighted to hear about all these new powers the HOD position suddenly carries, ' Mike joked, as they were leaving the restaurant. Melissa had laughed at that. 'Maybe I'll have some fun with the poor guy, ' she said, mischievously, safe in the knowledge of the CEO's contempt for Roger Hargreaves. 'Bitch!' said Mike, flashing her a knowing grin. Melissa giggled. 'But also the boss, right?' she said. Both of them knew that by 'have some fun' Melissa meant that she was going to have herself a ball persecuting the wretched Roger. It was fine with Mike. 'Yeah, babe, you're the boss, ' he said. 'Just agreed that, haven't we?'
Melissa smirked inwardly now at how Roger was continually eyeing her legs but trying to be furtive about it. She sensed a guy who was kind of weak and pathetic, the sort who crumpled around good-looking women. 'Perfect!' she thought, her twisted imagination musing on different ways to torment him, to make his life at work a total misery. Melissa was determined to make a success of this job but she fully intended to enjoy herself along the way. A dozen men at her beck and call, what more could a girl want?
She was having a good time already, she admitted, swanning around like this in front of her new underlings, enjoying the spotlight, basking in the waves of lust coming her way. She put some extra sway into her hips, pleasantly conscious of a dozen pairs of admiring male eyes following her every move, The situation was rather delicious, Melissa thought, experiencing a thrilling sense of her power (in every sense) over these men. Should I be a real prick-tease? she wondered, glancing at the table just behind her. Yes, why not? Melissa sauntered to the table and sat on it. She held all the cards here and she felt like indulging herself. Felt like being a little bit wicked.
Melissa got herself comfortable, perched up on the table. An accomplished temptress, she knew precisely where the focus of the room now was: her legs. She let the men's hopeful anticipation gather and grow for a few moments, then she slowly crossed one leg over the other, tight skirt riding up her thighs, and was duly rewarded with an outbreak of painfully longing expressions. Melissa almost burst out laughing. Men were so easy to wind up! Some of the poor saps were actually blushing, she noticed. No doubt embarrassed about drooling over the boss's sexy legs. She decided there and then that tomorrow's skirt would be a few inches shorter than today's.
The certain knowledge of a dozen imprisoned cocks getting stiff because of her gave Melissa a smug frisson of pleasure and she continued sitting on the table as she carried on speaking. Toying with the transfixed men, she kept shifting position and languorously crossing and re-crossing her lovely legs, her sexy skirt sliding up a little more each time. She loosened one of her shoes, let it slide down her foot and dangle precariously from the edge of her toes. Every so often, just to really drive the guys wild, she drifted a finger under the hem of her skirt and lazily scratched an 'itch' up high on her thigh. The sexual tension in the room was palpable, an agonised lust for Melissa etched ever more plainly across the sea of perspiring male faces.
It wasn't fair, Melissa knew, teasing the poor things like this, especially when they worked for her, but it was too much fun to resist! Hilarious and such a buzz to sit there and casually tantalise them with her long legs, coolly enjoying the impact on her victims, watching them try desperately to keep their arousal in check, eyes sliding away from hers, unable to meet her amused and level gaze when she caught them leching.
Apart from one guy, that is, one of the younger ones who she'd noticed had been giving her the full head-to-toe appreciation ever since she'd started her spiel and who was now quite brazenly checking out her thighs. He was rather yummy looking, Melissa thought. Mmm, quite the hunk! Perhaps because of this he had the swagger and confidence to ogle her quite blatantly. Unlike Roger Hargreaves, and indeed most of the others, he was making no attempt to pretend he was doing anything other than feasting his eyes on her physical charms. Melissa was partial to handsome young men and she'd been encouraging this one with plenty of reciprocated eye contact. She grinned at him again now, as she slid off the table and resumed the pacing around for the remainder of her little talk.
Melissa went to the young hunk first when she'd finished her pitch and it was time for the old 'ok now it's your turn, let's have everyone stand up and introduce themselves' routine. 'Bryce Mulroy' was the name. He told her he'd been with the company just a couple of months. 'Great to meet you, Bryce, honey, ' she purred when he'd said his piece. 'Gosh, you must be the baby of the office, am I right?'
'I guess. Twenny one, Miss Reynolds, ' Bryce said, grinning insouciantly at her, emphasis on the 'Miss'. He'd noticed the lack of a wedding ring. They all had.
Melissa grinned back at him. As well as persecuting Roger Hargreaves, she was planning to create a 'favourite' in the office, a guy who she'd treat much better than everyone else simply because he was easy on the eye, and this 'Bryce' was most definitely pencilled in for that! 'Call me Melissa, ' she pouted. 'That goes for all of you guys. It's 'Melissa', ok?' An appreciative ripple of assent from the employees. 'Ok, yeah. Melissa, ' said Bryce, grin wider still as he sat down. 'So, who's next?' said Melissa, looking at Paul Monk, a heavy-set, bearded individual who was sitting next to Bryce Mulroy. Paul got up and introduced himself. 'Ok, thanks, Paul, ' said Melissa, smiling sweetly at him. 'Next?'
Next was Marcus Barnaby, a laidback young guy with long blond hair and a bit of a 'hippy' thing going on. Then John Bosstick: tall, angular, very thin; Paulo Reggazoni: Italian, small and wiry; Tom Shultz: half German, open face, crew-cut; Michael Kim, Jerome Kilmarnock, Bob Baker ... and so on and so forth, moving swiftly through the group, Melissa being courteous and friendly with each of them whilst restraining from the distinctly flirtatious tone she'd adopted with Bryce Mulroy.
'Right, good, so who's left? Ah yes, you ... middle of the front row there.' Melissa was pointing at Roger Hargreaves, pretending that she didn't already know who he was. Roger lumbered awkwardly to his feet. 'Clearly NOT the baby of the office, ' Melissa joked, before Roger could speak. Sniggers from Bryce and some of the others; a tightly forced smile from Roger. 'Um, no, ' he resumed, clearly uncomfortable now. 'Roger Hargreaves. I've been here since... '
'World War Two, ' quipped somebody, which made the whole room laugh, including Melissa. She could tell that the CEO's dismissive attitude to Roger Hargreaves was shared by the guys within the department. Well so much the better for what I have in mind, she thought, as she stared at him, a contemptuous smile playing on her full, sensuous lips. And no time like the present, she reckoned, deciding that here was a perfect opportunity to start having some of that 'fun' with poor Roger that she'd promised herself. 'Ok, well it sounds as if I have a man of real experience at my disposal then, doesn't it?' she drawled, suggestively, and everyone tittered. 'Not sure he's my type, though, ' she added, with a bitchy smile.
Roger had fallen silent, struggling to know how to proceed. Melissa didn't help out. Cruelly, she let him stand there, stewing with embarrassment, while the other guys sat bantering amongst themselves about how ancient Roger was, how long he'd been working in the company, how he 'wasn't anybody's type'. As they made fun of him they kept looking at Melissa to check on her reaction and, egged on by her obvious amusement, their ribbing of Roger got increasingly nasty and personal.
'Yep, Fatty knows his way around here, that's for sure, ' snickered John Bosstick.
'Yeah, good old Fatty!' jeered Bob Baker.
Gales of laughter now, the atmosphere becoming decidedly raucous. Roger's head twitched at the mention of his derisory nickname in front of the new boss. Still, maybe it was for the best. Least Melissa would be able to see now what immature dicks some of the other guys were and slap them down, force them to show him a bit more respect. His lack of authority around the place had probably cost him the chance of the HOD job, he reckoned, so if this Melissa Reynolds were to bring a greater discipline to the place, make people behave, then when she eventually moved onwards and upwards, who knows? Perhaps he'd get his shot at it.
This optimistic line of thinking lasted as long as it took Roger to realise that Melissa was laughing along with everyone else at the 'Fatty' reference. 'Is that his name around here then?' she said, eyebrows raised sardonically, directing the question to Bryce Mulroy. 'Yeah. Fatty Hargreaves, ' Bryce said.
'Hun, that's cruel!' Melissa scolded, but she was grinning at Bryce and the glint in her eye was telling him and the others, 'it's ok, guys, you just go right ahead and abuse this pathetic bastard as much as you want, I'm the boss and you have my total permission.'
'Suits him, though, I suppose, ' she added, maliciously. 'Fucking does, ' Bryce sneered, having a great time now. So were the rest of them, who were all sniggering. 'Guy's a fucking ball of lard, ' Bryce continued, warming to his theme. 'He's fucking disgusting. I mean, jesus, just look at him.'
'I'd much rather look at you, sugar, ' pouted Melissa, triggering ribald laughter from everyone. 'Fuck off, you guys are just jealous!' protested Bryce. He was grinning ear to ear, clearly enjoying Melissa's flirty favouritism towards him. Good, thought Melissa, because he was going to get plenty of it. Wouldn't be just flirting either, she was planning to spoil Bryce rotten. There'd be long 'expense account' lunches out with the boss, cosy little chats whenever he felt like it, and he'd be getting an absurdly large pay rise and a generally cushy time around the office. He was going to love working here, Bryce Mulroy was. And letting him fuck her was most certainly on the agenda. Yes, she'd be inviting this young hunk into her office on a regular basis and locking the door and closing the blinds. The thought of having his firm twenty one year old cock pumping her dripping pussy while the rest of them toiled away outside at their desks was extremely appealing. If he turned out as good a fuck as he looked she'd be making it a daily treat. What better way to ease the stresses and strains of her new job than getting serviced on demand by a virile young stud!
Melissa gazed at the hapless Roger Hargreaves, stood there staring down at his shoes. He'd gone bright red and looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. Christ, the guy was utterly pathetic, she thought. Here he was, getting royally abused, being demeaned and degraded in front of the whole office, and he was just taking it. Couldn't even summon the gumption to at least sit back down. Melissa had no pity. Roger's aura of helplessness, his inability to stand up for himself, only stimulated her inner sadist. She wanted to humiliate him further, wanted to make sure he knew exactly what was in store for him under his new boss. Melissa checked her watch. 4:15. Plenty of time. 'Wonder how much he weighs? Any ideas, guys?' she said. A series of ever more outlandish suggestions were yelled out. Melissa let this go on for a while before eventually putting a hand up to quieten things down. 'Ok, ok, I get the general idea, ' she giggled.
'Melissa, please, ' Roger managed to blurt. He was looking at her imploringly. 'Just sit down and be quiet, Fatty, ' she snapped, enjoying herself immensely now. 'Um, ok, sorry, ' Roger muttered, and he sat gingerly back on his chair to a chorus of jeers from the rest of them. Melissa just about managed to keep a straight face. Unbelievable! Roger was actually apologising to her. She was treating the poor bastard like a piece of shit, and he was the one saying sorry. Ok, so let's really have some fun with him! 'You're ok with being called 'Fatty' then, Fatty, are you?' Melissa said. 'Should we say that 'Fatty Hargreaves' is your actual name from now on?' Roger just kind of twitched again. 'Say it, ' ordered Melissa. 'Say 'hello Melissa, my name is Fatty Hargreaves.'' Roger opened his mouth but nothing came out. The others were all sniggering like crazy.
Roger, noticeably trembling now, swallowed hard a couple of times before trying again. 'Hello Melissa, my name is ... um ... Fatty Hargreaves, ' he mumbled, staring into his lap.
'Less of this 'Melissa' business. It's 'Miss Reynolds' to you, Fatty, ok?'
Roger stayed silent, squirming in his seat. 'I said is that ok?' Melissa repeated, her tone one of exaggerated patience. It was like she was talking to a small child. 'Um, yes, ' Roger muttered. Melissa wasn't satisfied. 'No, not acceptable. Looks like we need a little training. When I say 'Ok?' you nod your head and you reply 'Yes, Miss Reynolds' ... Ok?' Melissa's commanding voice and expression left Roger in no doubt that she was deadly serious. Hating her for humiliating him like this, and himself for allowing it, he found himself nodding and croaking 'Yes, Miss Reynolds, ' in a small, defeated voice. 'That's better, ' Melissa smirked. 'Important thing for you to do, Fatty, is remember exactly who the boss is in this department. Ok?'
'Yes, Miss Reynolds.'
'Ok, let's test you out ... Who IS the boss?'
'You are, Miss Reynolds.'
'Good. And so when I say 'jump' you say 'how high', have you got that?'
'Yes, Miss Reynolds.'
'No, Fatty, you're regressing. You forgot to nod. Try again. I wanna hear 'Yes, Miss Reynolds' and I wanna see that little bald head of yours nodding up and down, let's say at least five times, so I know you mean it. Ok, last chance ... go for it.' To a cacophony of jeering laughter from the other guys, all of whom were just loving what was happening here, Roger's abject 'Yes, Miss Reynolds' was now accompanied by a passable impression of a nodding dog. Oh my god, this was simply hilarious, Melissa thought. 'There, you see. You can do it when you try, can't you?' she said, her voice dripping with condescension and contempt. 'I said, can't you?' Melissa prodded, conscious that she was simply torturing the poor guy for kicks now. Cue repeat of the 'Yes, Miss Reynolds' nodding dog routine from the wretched Roger Hargreaves. 'At last, he has it, ' Melissa said, grinning at the others and clapping her hands sarcastically. She moved to rest herself comfortably against the table. 'Ok now, look, I've been giving some thought to how we ought to be organised around here and I have one particular suggestion I'd like to float. Something we could do more or less straightaway which I think will increase morale and efficiency.'
They were listening keenly, she was pleased to see. Even Roger had pulled himself together slightly and was paying attention. 'Right, so here it is, ' she continued. 'Fact is, I know there's a lot of stuff to crunch through here every day and I know you guys work hard. So I wanna make life a little easier for you. What I wanna do is have a guy in here, a kind of general office assistant, whose job it is to do all the shitty low level stuff that you guys shouldn't have to do. So by that I mean he does pretty much whatever you tell him to do. Filing, photocopying, keeping everything clean and tidy around the place, getting the coffees in, fetching lunch from the canteen, doing whatever little tasks and errands you need doing, basically, and just generally being at your service and making himself useful ... how does that sound so far?'
Chorus of ''Yeah, Melissa, brilliant!' and similar from the group. 'How about you, Fatty? You happy with that?' Melissa asked, smiling encouragingly at Roger. 'Oh yes, Miss Reynolds!' Roger replied, remembering to nod vigorously as he said it. It did sound a good idea, he had to admit. Maybe this Melissa wasn't so terrible after all. Perhaps all that earlier stuff had just been her idea of joking around. No harm done, he supposed, if she was going to be serious and professional like this from now on. 'That's great, ' Melissa continued, still talking to Roger. 'Since it's your opinion I'm most interested in.'
'Oh, ok, Miss Reynolds, ' said Roger, smiling hesitantly, his chest puffing out a bit.
'Yes it is. Because here's the thing: I don't have the budget to go out and hire somebody new for this 'office helper' position, and so I have to appoint a person who's already here. I need to select a suitable individual and then change their job from what it is currently, Senior Administrator let's say ... which is you, Fatty, isn't it? ... to this new job of general dogsbody. You see what I'm saying to you?' Melissa had the most evil grin on her lovely face as she delivered this last sentence. This was the part she'd most been looking forward to, the implementation of the diabolical scheme that had occurred to her when she'd heard from Mike Bryant how much Roger resented her appointment. The only question had been could she get away with it? Having now seen for herself just what a pathetic wimp Roger was, she was certain that she could.
Roger did see what Melissa Reynolds was saying to him. His features crumbled in shock and despair. No point arguing, he knew. He'd read the memo from the CEO making it crystal clear that Melissa's word was law. 'Starting first thing tomorrow, Fatty, ok?' said Melissa. Roger did his mandatory nodding. 'Yes, Miss Reynolds.' The other guys were whooping in delight. 'Oh yeah!' yelled one of them. 'Can't fucking wait for tomorrow morning, ' chuckled Tom Shultz.
'I've always fancied having a little assistant, ' cackled Paul Monk.
'Shit, the poor bastard, ' said Michael Kim, smiling and shaking his head. 'Can you imagine?'
Melissa waited patiently for the hubbub to die down before continuing: 'So, just to make myself clear, people. From tomorrow morning old Fatty Hargreaves here is at your complete command. He works directly for all of you guys, all of the time. He does whatever you tell him to do ... and I do mean anything. If you fancy a coffee or a snack or something, he goes and gets it. If you need any filing or copying done, just grab him. Whatever you need, guys, ok? If you spill something, for example, and it makes a mess on the floor, or wherever, it's Fatty's job to clear it up. If you want your shoes shined while you're working, fine, Fatty will be under your desk and doing that for you. Absolutely anything you want, you tell him and he does it with no debate. Any questions?'
There were lots. Melissa told them to stop shouting at the same time or she wouldn't be able to hear properly. She pointed to Marcus Barnaby. 'Sounds great, Melissa! So what other stuff can we get him to do?' Marcus wondered.
'Like I told you, pretty much anything.'
'Yes, Marcus, really.' Melissa said, with a sly grin. 'Ok, look, let's do it this way. You guys give me some thoughts as to what you might have Fatty do and I'll confirm whether it's ok or not. C'mon, we'll do it now. One at a time. Shoot.'
'How about he comes in early and gets us breakfast from the canteen, has it laid out on our desks for when we get in?'
'That's an excellent idea, Jerome. You guys can't be expected to work on an empty stomach, can you? Oh and he can pay for the breakfast too. Same goes for anything he gets you from the canteen. All comes out of his pocket.'
'But no breakfast for him, Melissa, right?'
'Definitely not. Don't want him getting any fatter than he already is, do we? In fact, just thinking on my feet here, guys, the rule is no food of any description for Fatty at any time while he's here. Which means the whole time between when he comes in to when he goes home, since he won't be allowed to leave the building. No coffee or tea or anything either. One glass of water at lunchtime, since we don't want him expiring of thirst instead of doing his job, but that's it.'
'Fuck, the poor bastard's gonna be starving the whole time!' said Paulo Reggazoni. Melissa flashed him a wicked grin. 'Well he'll just have to make do with watching you guys eat, won't he?' This triggered a general outbreak of hilarity. 'What's so funny, guys?' Melissa gurned.
'Oh, you know, just thinking how I might have Fatty sit with me sometimes while I'm stuffing myself, ' grinned John Bosstick. Melissa laughed. 'John, you are terrible!'
'But it's ok to do that, right?' said John, still grinning at her.
'Absolutely. I want you to have fun in the office. Long as the work gets done, I want you all to enjoy yourselves as much as possible. A happy workforce is a good workforce, that's what I say. So, yes, part of Fatty's role is to keep you guys entertained, as well as be your dogsbody, and if you wanna do stuff like eating in front of him, that's totally fine. In fact, why not be really evil with that? Late afternoon, say, when the poor thing is bound to be simply ravenous, you get him to dial in a yummy Chinese meal from outside, sweet and sour pork or something, and when it arrives you torment him with it. Like, you make him open the cartons and smell the food before he gives it to you, then while you're eating you make him drool by wafting bits of juicy pork right under his nostrils, you know, just totally tantalising him. Yes, I like it!'
Bryce's hand shot up. 'Hey, Melissa, so if I happen to be busy when Fatty brings me a snack, is it ok to make him feed me?'
'Of course, sweetie! You definitely ought to do that. Even if you're not that busy you might just happen to feel a bit lazy and so you decide that it'd be rather nice to kick back and have Fatty cut up your burger, or whatever, and then pop the pieces into your mouth for you to eat. You'll need to watch that he doesn't sneak a piece into his own mouth, of course. No breaking of our 'no food for fatso' rule. Like, if you can't finish whatever it is he's feeding you, you'll have to make absolutely sure that he throws every last scrap into the bin.'
The thought of a starving Roger being given the chore of tipping away his leftover food caused Bryce to crease up. 'You ok there, sugar?' smiled Melissa. 'Er, yeah, ' Bryce spluttered. He could barely speak he was laughing so much. 'Ok, good, ' said Melissa, briskly. 'So, any more ideas for what you might have him do?'
They flowed thick and fast.
He has to call us all Sir? Can we make him run around naked on all fours like a dog? He has to get down and kiss our feet when we arrive each morning. Can we make him beg for scraps of food? Maybe he gets to scavenge in the bins? What about making him do a little dance for us sometimes? How about he has to ask permission if he wants to go for a pee? Hey, and how about when I go for one he comes along and holds my dick for me? Yeah, or the little bastard gets to lick my ass clean after I've had a dump!
Melissa laughingly okayed each of these, except for the last one which she informed them was against 'Health & Safety' regulations.
'So, Melissa, what if he refuses to do something we tell him?' asked Paul Monk.
'Ok, right. Great question. There's two things that can happen. If it's a serious misdemeanour, like say he's really playing up and refusing to do his job, then you come and tell me and I'll fire his ass on the spot. If it's not so serious, if it's just that you're not completely satisfied with his performance on something, like maybe he hasn't cleaned your shoes quite properly, so there's just a tiny invisible little speck he's missed, or he's been less than suitably deferential in his manner towards you ... if it's that sort of thing ... then what I recommend you do is discipline him. You have my total blessing to do that, meaning you don't have to come and ask me each time, you just go ahead and punish him. Punish him however you want. The point is to make sure that he never does whatever it is he's being punished for ever ever again. I'm sure you get my drift, guys, right?'
'Hear that, fatso! You fucking behave or else you get punished!' erupted John Bosstick, who was sitting directly behind Roger. He leant forward in his seat and flicked Roger's ears with his fingers, making him wince. Then he rapped him rather brutally on the top of the head with his knuckles. 'Ouch, ' Melissa giggled, seeing the tears come to Roger's eyes. 'Looks like John's punishing him for something already, ' she joked. John shrugged. 'Well, you know, ' he snickered, sitting back in his seat. 'But John has the right idea, ' Melissa grinned. 'If Fatty displeases you in any way you have my standing permission to punish him however you see fit. You ok with that, guys?'
'And we don't have to ask you, right? We just decide what we wanna do to him and we do it?'
'Yep.' They were having a hard time believing all this, Melissa thought. Too good to be true, she supposed. 'I guess if you think it's something I might want to watch, like if it's something especially fiendish and amusing, then by all means come and tell me first, but other than that, no, just go right ahead. You'll be able to dream up a ton of suitable punishments for him, I'm sure.'
'You got any ideas already, Melissa?'
'Mmm, let me see now ... Yeah, sure, so just off the top of my head, you can do stuff like slap his face around, punch him in the stomach, knee him in the balls, hold him down and stamp and trample on him ... all that type of thing ... and, hey, maybe we keep a cane in here and then you can have him drop his pants and bend over and you take turns getting busy with his bare ass. Really make him yelp! Or you could get a bit more creative: stuff him tight in a filing cabinet and lock the door. Gag him in there all day even. Or, let's think, you could squirt a ton of ketchup up his nose. No, even better, mustard or chilli sauce, something hot and spicy. Rub it in his eyes maybe. You could piss in a glass and make him drink it, couldn't you? No end of things you could do, guys, when you put your mind to it. And to repeat, it's all fine by me. Just be sure to make him suffer.'
Melissa strolled forward to where Roger was sitting. She stood in front of him and made a face at the others, inviting them all to have a good laugh at 'Fatty', the communal figure of fun. 'What a fucking moron, ' she giggled, reaching down and tweaking Roger's nose. 'P-P-Please, don't, Miss Reynolds, ' Roger sobbed, as Melissa casually twisted his nose around. 'Aw, fatso's crying, ' Melissa said, grinning around at the other guys. She bent forward and put her face up close to Roger's, the better to savour his acute distress. 'Poor little Fatty, ' she mocked, releasing his nose and tickling him under the chin. 'Just imagine your life around here from now on. Imagine how you're gonna be tormented and bullied every single moment of every single day. Oh and you know what? I might have you come in some weekends too. Bet you hate being such a fucking loser, don't you?'
The other guys were almost dying with laughter. They couldn't believe what Melissa was doing to poor Roger. What an utter bitch!
'Fatty, you weren't peeping down my blouse, were you?' Melissa said sternly, straightening up and removing the alluring vista in question. She knew he had been. Ditto the guys sat either side of him, Bryce Mulroy and Michael Kim. Melissa particularly liked the wolfish way that Bryce had been staring at her cleavage. Don't you worry, sugar, you'll be doing more than looking very soon, Melissa silently told him, her erotic imagination running riot. God, she could hardly wait to feel this young stud's hands all over her! In fact, she thought, why wait? Why not today?
'You weren't, were you?' Melissa repeated, to the ribald amusement of everyone. She stood hands on hips, waiting for an answer. Roger shook his head. 'No, Miss Reynolds, ' he pleaded.
'He was, Melissa!' shouted somebody. 'Yeah, I bet the dirty little cunt's glasses were steaming up, ' jeered John Bosstick, leaning forward and delivering with great relish a couple more particularly vicious knuckle-raps to the top of Roger's head. Melissa stared down at Roger, basking in his abject fear and humiliation. She slapped him hard across the cheek. 'Drooling at my tits is definitively NOT in your new job description, Fatty, ' she said, smiling wickedly at him. 'Um, I'm s-s-sorry, Miss Reynolds, ' blubbered Roger, hoping to placate her. Melissa grinned at the others. 'Hear that, guys? He's sorry.' They were falling off their chairs laughing. Melissa slipped off her shoe and put one leg up on Roger's chair. 'I don't think he is sorry, ' she smirked, pressing her nyloned foot up between Roger's legs and wriggling her toes against his crotch. 'Because if he's so sorry how come I can feel a little hard-on in here?'
'P-P-Please, Miss Reynolds!' Roger begged, squirming with embarrassment. Despite his mortification he did have an erection. The sight of Melissa's glorious cleavage when she'd bent over in front of him was still burned into his brain, and now here she was doing this thing with her foot. And the way her skirt had risen high up her outstretched leg. Oh christ. 'It's true, Fatty, isn't it?' Melissa taunted, teasing his dick through his pants with her toes. 'You're getting all turned on by this, aren't you? Gonna come in your pants any minute.' Roger was dying with shame, the others corpsing with laughter. 'And we don't want that, guys, do we?' Melissa smirked, removing her foot from Roger's groin but keeping it resting on the chair between his thighs. 'It's ok, Fatty, you don't have to pretend. I know you have the hots for me. Why don't you just tell me? C'mon, fatso, I wanna hear it. Tell me how gorgeous and sexy I am.'
'Um, you're gorgeous, Miss Reynolds, ' Roger began hesitantly in a tiny squeaky voice.
'We can't hear you. Speak up!' Melissa snapped at him.
He started again, a bit louder now. 'You're g-g-gorgeous, Miss Reynolds.'
'And sexy. You find me sexy, Fatty, don't you?'
'Yes, Miss Reynolds.'
'Which part of me excites you the most then?'
'Um, dunno, Miss Reynolds.'
'Hmm, really? Well I think I know. It's my legs, isn't it? You like my sexy legs, fatso, don't you?'
'Yes, Miss Reynolds.'
'They turn you on, don't they?'
'Yes, Miss Reynolds.'
'Hey, Melissa, he forgot to do his nodding thing, ' shouted somebody above the background of jeering laughter.
'So he did, ' Melissa giggled. She slapped Roger's face. 'Try again, fatso.'
Roger nodded vigorously this time as he answered. 'That's better, ' Melissa said. 'But what I wanna hear is exactly HOW much you like my sexy legs. So why don't you tell me?'
Roger took a deep breath and plunged in. 'Miss Reynolds, you have the sexiest legs I've ever seen, ' he blurted, to uproarious laughter.
'Why thank you, Fatty!' Melissa smiled. 'But you know what? ... I don't really need you to tell me. I know I've got great legs, see. That's why I wear sexy skirts like this. You do like me in this skirt, Fatty, don't you?'
'Yes, Miss Reynolds, ' Roger nodded.
'Although you probably wish it was just a teeny bit shorter, am I right?'