The woman walked around the room in an imperious manner. She looked over his application and resume making ticking noises as she did. The kind of ticking sounds with her tongue to the roof of her mouth. You know, that sound one makes for no, no, no when one is less than impressed with what you are seeing. He watched her trying not to look as if he was gawking at her. She wore an impossibly tight blue dress which came only to her upper thigh. Her ample bosoms strained the material and fat nipples poked out in small hills marking the center of attention. The lacey stockings clung tightly to the muscles of the shapely legs which they covered. The spiked-heels of her shoes clicked while the open toed shoe gave him enough of a view that he could see her painted toenails. She said nothing but looked intently at his application and resume. He head barely shook displaying a slight disgust.

"Useless, irrelevant, waste of time," she whispered out the sound of antipathy in her voice as she looked at the meager work history. "Liberal arts, communication major," she spat the words out. "What a useless degree, speech, drama – it is just an absolute waste of human effort."

He had applied for data entry clerk, he was certain you didn't have an interview with an executive vice-president for a data entry position. The not yet 21-year-old boy, for he really was just a boy, was nervous. An uncertainty fogged his brain as to why he was here. The improbability that he was qualified for any job that MS Shauna Walters, Executive Vice-President of Acquisitions for Stewart, Henning, and Saunders would interview him for was a mystery. The weight of it crushed down on him. The holding company bought and sold major corporations the way the local Walmart purchased and resold facial tissue. A fine, yet perceptible film of perspiration covered his face while his hands trembled with his uneasy expectation that he would fail spectacularly in this interview. To make matters worse, his prick came to life as soon as he saw the shapely blonde.

Walking back to the desk, she opened a wooden box and removed a short, thin, brown cigarillo, "Smoking is prohibited in this building." She spoke as she lit the cigar, "That is for you – not me." She tossed his paperwork on her desk walked behind it. She was a tall woman about five feet ten and the heels must have put her over six feet. He felt quite insecure, he was a slight man, thin, less than five feet four. He was quite small, no actually he was scrawny. Feeling uneasy with his pecker taking such attention of her he crossed his legs. She stood looking at him with her arms crossed and she had what he took for a look of disapproval. He could hear her toe tapping as she scowled at him. The look burned in him stirring up his insecurities.

"You're a tiny man," her disapproval evident in her tone. "I don't imagine you are very athletic are you?" He wasn't sure it was a real question.

"Not very," he said his voice quaking. She sat in her big chair and puffed on the dark fire-stick watching him. Her eyes seemed to drink him in. But not like drinking in cool water the way you drink down bad tasting medicine quickly to get over with. The smoke swirled around her as her head shook slightly in a disapproving manner, she rose and walked around behind him. Uneasy he turned his head trying to figure out where she was. She loomed over him directly behind him putting her hands on the back of the chair she pushed it up very close to the desk. Shauna Walters moved him like he weighed nothing as if she was just moving the seat. Perhaps had the chair been one of those chairs with wheels it wouldn't have meant so much. It didn't have wheels, no it was a wooden chair with a big flat board between the front and back legs. She pushed him like a sled on snow.

"Eric, why do you want this job," she tested him.

"It is Derick MS Walters, my name is Derick,"

"Are you sure? It looks like Eric to me on your signature," she walked around and grabbed the application. "Oh, your right, your handwriting is dreadful. Back to my point, why do you want this job?"

"I don't know, I mean, I don't even know what job you're interviewing me for," he didn't intend for it to happen. It just did without warning his voice quivered, quaked and cracked. He sounded like a child saying he didn't know how the lamp was broken. Same shaky, cracking, voice, he had when he was a 12-year-old being beat up by the bullies. He sounded as if he was about to cry, which he was.

"Don't be a baby stop acting like a spoilt child?" Tears flooded out of his eyes, "Are you crying? Really you are going to cry like a baby," She moved right in front of him. Carefully, MS Walters maneuvered onto the desk, cautiously, slowly she crossed her legs, almost daring him to try to peek. Putting her elbow to rest on her knee, she put her chin in her hand and looked at his tear stained face, "Personal assistant."

"Ma'am," he said confused as he wiped his eyes.

"Personal assistant that is the job, my personal assistant." She watched him intently she could see a small tent in his pants and she knew he was erect. She also could tell it was a tiny prick – good she loved boys with little dicks. "The hours will be long and hard. The pay is shit and I am quite rough on my personal assistants. I tend to make more manly specimens than you cry. Now why do you want this job?"

"I graduated college a year ago ma'am and I'm flipping burgers at a fast food place. Anything has to be better than that," he kept his head down with his eyes fixed on the floor, he was afraid to look her in the eyes.

"No, it doesn't child," re-crossing her legs his eyes drifted up for a moment and then back to the floor. "This job will be difficult for you, I will insult you, belittle you, and humiliate you in private and public. You will work long hours, do demeaning task for me, fetch coffee and lunch. You will even buy me tampons if I tell you to. There is another thing as well, but we won't go into that until I know you want this job. Well – do you want this job?"

He sat there and turned his eyes only up to her. His brown eyes were wide with a mixture of fear and anticipation. He licked his lips and then answered her, "I want this job."

"Why, be honest every little reason." Her fierce green eyes burned him and he looked down again. Her stare was unrelenting holding him at once in total disdain while filling him with desire.

"I crave it," he said in a halting voice nearly crying again.

"What do you crave?"

"The humiliation and all that goes with it," he said something else as well but it was inaudible.

"Don't whisper speak clearly," she said sharply.

"I look forward to doing anything you want anytime you want. In return, I will accept any work or punishment cheerfully, even if I cry." He hoped he hadn't misread the situation.

"Bravo," she clapped her hands together. A heartbeat later she sprang on him clutching his throat squeezing lightly. She forced him to look at her. "I will abuse you, physically and sexually, I'm sadistic and I will give you pain for my pleasure. I will use you for my desires, how I please ... when I please ... where I please. In return, you will keep your mouth shut. If I ever," she closed her hand around his throat – squeezed harder closing off the airway. He struggled trying to breathe, "If I ever think you are going to talk to anyone about this." He raised his hand to hers, "Drop that hand boy." He lowered his hand while the tears streamed from his eyes the view of her face was fogging up as his eyes fluttered. "I repeat if I every even think you are going to be a rat ... I ... will ... kill ... you. Your body will never be found..." the words trailed off in his mind as he passed out.

Jerking upright with a start he saw her sitting again perched on the desk, legs crossed. She blew smoke out of her mouth then looked at her watch, "Six minutes. I became the youngest vice-president of this company at 34 and now at 39 I am the only woman to ever fill the position of Executive Vice-President. Soon I will be President, then CEO." Touting her qualifications she impressed on him just how important she was. If you behave yourself and are a good little boy, then you can come along for the ride. If you disappoint me – I will kill you. Do you believe me?"

He ducked his head pondering her questions. Leaning forward, she smacked his cheek hard with the back of her hand. The diamond ring on her finger cut his cheek, the thin cut oozed blood and the cheek swelled up.

"Look me in the eye faggot and answer me."

"I believe you MS Walters."

"Good –" she paused contemplating her next words. "Is your mommy still alive?" She knew the answer he had no one left in the world. The waterworks burst forth, his small shoulders heaved and he covered his eyes as the grief hit him hard. He looked like a 12-year-old crying for his loss.

"No, she died a month ago," she jumped to him quickly pulling his head to her massive breast.

"There, there don't cry little boy, you don't need a mommy you have me. You can call me mommy – that is if no one is around," pulling his head away from her chest she grabbed his cheeks with her fingers pinching him hard. "Does the dirty wittle boy want to call me mommy?" He nodded his head. Gouging her thumbnail deep in the open wound on his cheek, she spoke to him slowly. "Mommy will treat her nasty wittle boy worse than his real mother ever treated him." She then moved back onto the desk. This time she did not cross her legs she sat there her legs slightly spread.

"Nasty wittle boy you're looking up mommy's dress. Mommy should whip your dirty wittle butt for that. Well, I will let it pass this time." She moved to the very edge of the desk. "Now you have to do a pre-employment test if you get a passing mark you're hired."

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