Chapter 2

"You look tired, Vic." said Mr. Andersen, Victor's boss. Broad-shouldered and strong, nature had obviously indended Darrel Kennith Andersen to be a hulking juggernaut of a man, but his body had never gotten the hint, stopping its vertical ascent at four-foot-six. Except for a forelock at the front and some stubborn growth at the back, the man was bald, though he had once had a full head of ebony hair. Character lines from his fifty years as a reporter and, later, an executive, had built themselves around the taut scar-line he'd received in a knife fight in his youth, just barely missing his right eye. The scar bespoke a hard childhood for the man. He was so unlike the many employees around him who knew not the meaning of hard work. He had earned his place in command, had made himself irreplacible, and thus, had secured himself in his position as managing chief, known as the Archangel of Death, because he was the lowest-ranking executive, and often was the one to oversee the enactment of decress "from above." "How long's it been since you had a vacation?"

"Six months." Victor replied. "And it was the whole two weeks, and I'm not due to get any more until the new fiscal year."

"True enough, Vic, but..." Mr. Andersen paused. "We're having a bit of a turnover problem right now, and I'm not talking pastries."

"I know, sir, that's why you need me here."

"No, that's why I need you to not burn yourself out, Vic." Mr. Andersen replied emphatically. "You're one of precisely four employees we have left with any loyalty in them. The rest of these kids are just working here long enough to get some extra job experience and our name on their resume before they head over to that big station across the river, or they're just here on work-study programs while they're working their way through Baylor. That's not your problem, though, not as copy editor, at any rate. It's the board's problem. Your problem is getting some rest so you're not shambling around here half-dead." He pulled a little keychain from his pocket. "Listen, Vic, you guys are very important to me, and that's a fact. I need you in tip-top shape. So, since Vinnie's back from sick leave, and your two weeks are already gone, I'm putting you on assignment." He handed the keychain to Victor, who immediately recognized the black plastic head of a car key and the brand name of a company speciallizing in deadbolts for houses. He knew what Mr. Andersen was trying to do, but he owed it to the man to put up a little resistence if only to show he wasn't totally fried.

"I appreciate it, Mr. Andersen, but I'm an editor, not an anchor."

"You're our most senior non-executive." Mr. Andersen replied. "That gives you an idea of what makes a good employee and what makes..." He gestured to the youths on the other side of the one-way mirror Mr. Andersen used as a window so they couldn't tell whether or not he was watching. Most often he was, but he didn't want them to get cocky and make a mistake when he eventually had to go to the restroom or something. They were all going through the motions. One of the research guys was obviously viewing a porn site at his terminal, as evidenced by the bulge of his eyes and the too-pleased look on his face. Andersen entered a few keystrokes to confirm what he already knew, and sent an email to the man's inbox. The pop-up window indicating he had mail appeared on cue, and was followed by a series of clicks from the young man's mouse. "Let me finish before I have to tear into Danny Droolsalot over there." Mr. Andersen continued. "What you hold in your hands is the key to the car parked in in spot 24B and a set of keys to a house on Lake Mexia, and the boat that's parked there. Your assignment is to round up someone who's looking for a steady job. Make that several someones. We need all the decent help we can get! You'll be drawing a recruiter's salary, which is cheaper than hiring a headhunter but still enough for you to be comfortable, and you'll have an expense account."

"Sir, I couldn't impose..."

"Impose?" Mr. Andersen scoffed. "It's not like I'm sending you on vacation, Vic. This rollover has investors looking elsewhere, and we can't have that." Well, if this was how Mr. Andersen was going to justify it, far be it for Victor to argue further.

"I won't let you down, sir."

"You never do, my boy." Mr. Andersen said. "It's a shame you're our most senior non-executive at only four years."

"That bad, sir?"

"Like I said." Mr. Andersen replied. "Oh, and Vic?"

"Yes?"

Mr. Andersen pulled back his remaining hair with one hand in an attempt to give the impression of a widow's peak, assumed a very bad Jack Nicholson face, and said in a very bad Jack Nicholson voice "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Victor gave a little laugh before he stepped out, almost running into the very nervous young porn-surfer. "What the fuck did you think you were doing out there, Pennington?!?!" he heard before the door closed.

"Charlie got in trouble!" a singsong voice chimed from the gopher farm. The perpetrator was hidden behind a forest of particle board partitions, but Victor knew by sensing the glee among a sea of nervousness who had said it. He navigated the cubicle-maze with the ease of four years' experience until he was at the cubicle of Kim Kahn, called Kimi by her friends and Genghis Kahn by those who had tried to get into her pants. Victor knew she was good at her job, but she was only biding her time until she could get a job interview with a competing station. He decided she could use a shift in loyalties.

"When's your break, Ms. Kahn?" he asked.

"Four o'clock, Mr. Phillips." Kim replied sheepishly, giving her superior a frightened expression.

"Would you find a stopping place in that document you're working on and come see me in my office, please?"

"Yes, sir." she replied, keeping her tone level despite the fears that echoed in her mind. He went to his office, pocketing the keys in his hand and walking as nonchalantly as one with his kind of plans could. He closed the blinds over his window and made himself relax. In minutes, Kim was at his door. She knocked politely. She was afraid she was going to get fired for something.

"Come in." he said, speaking in Chinese, to keep her associating him with someone who was to be obeyed, such as the grownups in her childhood homeland.

"You ... you speak Chinese?" she asked, sheepishly, as she entered.

"Close the door, please, and flip on the privacy light." he said. She complied. Her thoughts were more fearful now, for she had consoled herself by muttering plans for revenge to herself in Chinese. The fact that Victor was speaking Chinese to her now only made her think that he had heard her and, unlike "the rest of the gwailao who infest this place," had understood what she had said.

"Is there anything I can do for you, sir?" she asked, respectfully, in Chinese, since it was apparently the chosen language for this conversation. This could work to his advantage. Not only did she associate China with her childhood and childhood manners, including respect for adults who spoke it, but it had also forced her thoughts to dwell on her treacherous mutterings. He decided to keep himself vague, and pressure her to confess.

"I would like to discuss your plans for the future." he said.

"My ... my plans?" she asked.

"Yes, Kahn Kim." He deliberately addressed her as she would have been addressed in China: Surname first, as if she had not Anglicized her name to fit in in America. "I am interested in your plans for the future. Where do you see yourself next month? Next year? Two years from now? Five?"

"I ... I don't know." she stammered.

"Don't you?" Victor asked. "Tell me, Kahn Kim, what did your parents teach you about loyalty?"

"I ... uh ... I..." she stammered.

"Do you know that bad turnover is a self-perpetuating problem?"

"It is?" she asked.

"Yes." Victor replied. "There could be nothing wrong with a company's way of doing business, but it is required to publish its turnover rate. Now, let's say few disgruntled workers quit and move on to something else out of no reason other than they're bored, or it's no longer fashionable to work for that company. The company has to hire replacements. Suddenly the company has a rise, even a minute one, in turnover, and this comes to the attention of the investors. The investors panic, selling off their stock, hurting the company financially, causing budget cuts, which results in salary cuts, which results in more resignations, requiring more workers to be hired to replace the ones that left. This frightens the investors more, and the selling increases in pace. The cycle continues, only faster now. No one remembers why the turnover began, only that it has, and it is accellerating." He had risen from his chair, and now stood before Kim, bending at the waist to stare into her fearful eyes. "There is a way to stop it, but it requires teamwork ... and loyalty." Her eyes were becoming tearful now. She was obviously struggling to keep her face from scrunching up in a full, bold-faced bawl. "The responsibility has been placed in my hands, Kahn Kim."

"I am sorry." she said, closing her eyes as two tears leaked down her face. "I am sorry for my disloyal comments, sir! I did not know anyone could understand me! I was frustrated! I was trying to calm myself! That is all! I do not truly wish to leave! Please don't cast me away!"

"That is what I needed to hear." Victor said, brushing her tears away. "I need loyal employees who can help me slow this thing, escape the downward spiral."

"How can I help, sir? What can I do?"

"This is enough for now." he said, patting her shoulder. "Do you have any job interviews scheduled?"

"No, sir." Kim replied emphatically. "I ... I had sent in a few applications, but I will cancel them immediately!"

"Yes, I believe that's best." Victor said, gesturing toward his desk. Immediately, Kim sat in the rather comfortable chair, taking half a moment to enjoy the feeling before she picked up the phone and dialed an outside number. In English, Kim cancelled her job applications at four competing stations, turned to the computer to email the cancellation as well, then logged out of her email account and hung up the phone.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?" she asked, looking up at him with an expression very much like he had imagined a well-trained servant would use. The combination of her expression and her tone of voice turned Victor on immeasurably. He caressed her cheek, allowing his tone to soften.

"There is something else." Victor said. Her ankles crossed, her knees parted slightly, her face flushed, her pupils dilated, her back bent ever so slightly to emphasize her small bust. This change in body language spoke volumes which didn't need to be verbalized, but Victor continued down his chosen path. "I won't tell anyone about your mutterings, but I cannot stop what has begun without help." She nuzzled into his hand as she continued to respond to the intimacy of the moment. "I need to know I can count on you to help me if necessary. You've been very honest with me, Kim, and I am grateful for that. Now I would like to be honest with you." She gazed up at him. He had her undivided attention. "I cannot be certain yet, but I believe this assignment I have been given is multi-faceted. I think there may be someone moving up soon. I must do some work away from the office, and I need someone to keep an eye on things, scout the situation for me while I'm gone."

"I will do anything you ask of me, sir." Kim said, her hand rising to meet his. "I am at your disposal." He brought her up out of the chair to meet him. One hand at the small of her back, he held her gaze, his finger tracing her jawline. She let a small moan escape her lips. Victor realized she liked being touched this way. Their lips brushed. Her mouth opened, admitting his tongue. She tasted faintly of gin and chamomile. She shivered as his hand traced down her side, slipping below the hem of her skirt. She cooed as he ran his fingers over the crotch of her very wet panties. Her hands began to unsnap his shirt. She ran her fingers over his muscular chest. "I've never felt this way ... about anyone ... before." she grunted as his finger slid under her panties to caress her labia. "Please ... I want this ... take me ... keep me ... own me..." she moaned. Victor's mind locked the office door as they moved into the tiny washroom. Her mind echoed with passion and pleasure. Victor found that she was a closet submissive, needing a strong male to guide her and dominate her, but afraid to show weakness in front of anyone lest she be taken advantage of.

"Take off your clothes for me." he said, putting down the toilet lid so he could sit down. She moaned passionately at her fantasy come true.

"Yes, sir." she replied. "Yes, master." she amended. Her jacket fell from her shoulders to pool on the floor, followed by her tan skirt. She fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, ripping off the final three buttons in her eagerness to serve. Victor smiled. He wasn't even controlling her. He stopped her, rising from his seat to rub at her erogenous zones through the undergarments.

"You like this?" he asked as she ground herself against his fingers. "Knowing who's in charge?"

"Ayah!" she exclaimed as her body convulsed in orgasm. She collapsed against him. "Yes, master." she sighed. He kissed her on the lips, moving one hand to the small of her back, which seemed to help her get aroused even more quickly.

"Hold out your arms." he said, and she moaned as she complied. He unfastened the clasp of the silken strapless, dropping it to the floor as he began to play with her nipples. Her aureolas were small, but well-formed. Her nipples were little buds of pleasure that loved the attention he lavished on them. He watched through her mind as she felt the heat from his mouth as it approached one nipple, then fire as he began to suck on it. He alternated between the two nipples, delighting in her reactions. He brought his hands to the hem of her panties, which by now were soaked completely through. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. "Because once I take these panties off, I will posess you. My word will be your law." She moaned, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Yes." she said. "I want you to own me, master. I want you to take me to hypnosis shows and make me pay for the tickets. I want to be your spy, your agent, your whore, your blow-up doll, whatever you want. I knew this the moment I started crying in your office, Master. You are my Master. I am your slave. I can only hope to be worthy of you, Master." A quick mindbrush revealed that she had often visited a website called the Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive on company time and company computers. With the gift Zak had given him, he could easily protect her from retribution should it be discovered. Yes, he felt the wisest course was to accept her, and the responsibility that came with her.

"You've been so honest with me, Kim. Now I want to be honest with you. I have a power. A power which would let me change things about you. I would never use it to harm you, but I want you to know that your fantasies can come true if you want them to." She gazed into his eyes, and he let her be aware of his presence in her mind.

"Take me, Master." she said, her voice a half-moan of desire. "Keep me. Change me. Alter me to your desires." With his hand on the back of her head, he made a few minor alterations, removing some inhibitions and useless things like jealousy and the tiny claustrophobic twinge she had felt upon entering the washroom. He also made himself the only man she could ever desire, though she would be open to sex with females as well. He saw that she was a little ashamed of her nearly flat chest and wished she could be a little bigger, especialy for her new Master. That, too, was easily changed, and tears of joy streamed down her face as she suddenly found herself sporting a B-cup chest. He pulled down her panties, depositing them on the sink as he kissed her, and she orgasmed again, though she was unable to form even the word "ayah" with his mouth over hers. She sank to her knees, undoing Victor's belt, then his slacks, pulling them down along with his boxers. She gazed lovingly at his nine-inch cock. Seeing a drop of fluid at the tip, she extended her tongue and licked it off. His cock jumped at the contact, and she jumped in surprise. He chuckled warmly, giving her an encouraging caress. "I love you, Master." she cooed before taking the engorged head in her tiny mouth. Its girth stretched her lips almost painfully, but she pressed on, desperate to get it inside her. He reached the back of her throat with only four inches in her mouth. She was a neophyte when it came to fellatio. She didn't know how to deep-throat yet. It didn't matter. He pulled out and drew her toward the toilet, where he sat. Her three-inch heels slipped on the porcelain until he began to hold them in place with the power of his mind, but she was finally able to straddle his hips. She slid onto him, her tight body gradually accomodating itself to its new owner. She cried out as her cherry broke, but he made sure the sound never left the room. He began to gradually pump her up and down on him, and she rode him just as she rode the waves of pleasure coursing through her brain. "Ayah! Ayah! Ayah! Ayah!" she cried as she had her most intense orgasm of the afternoon. He erupted within her, his semen nearly scalding in its heat. She flopped limply against him, helpless, unable and unwilling to resist anything else he might do to or for her.