I sat across from the blonde, beautiful, older woman trying to make sense of what I had just heard. No doubt about it, so far this had been the most unusual job interview I had ever had.

Not that I'd had too many; I was interviewing for my first real job out of grad school, which I had entered right after college. However, even with my limited experience, I knew this was out of the ordinary.

"Could you repeat that, please, Ms. Wilson?"

"Certainly, my dear. I am about to offer you a position with Wilson Consulting. It will put your technology and engineering background to work in a highly successful and profitable company. Our HR research indicates that someone with your credentials and limited experience can easily find a job paying sixty-thousand per year elsewhere, and you have confirmed that.

"I would like you to consider this position with us instead, and consider a salary of eighty-thousand a year. In order to accept this job, you must endure two simple tests. The only way to fail these tests is to ask me to stop administering them. Each should take about ten minutes."

"Okay. I know how to take tests."

"Good. Before we get started with those, I wonder whether you noticed anything peculiar about this company during the tour Mindy gave you earlier."

"Umm, the office is very neat and tidy."

"Yes. What else?"

"Umm, the staff is very sharply dressed."

"What else about the staff?"

"Well, I noticed that they were mostly women."

"Actually, other than Bobby, our mentally-challenged mailroom messenger, and Gus, the seventy-year-old security guard, we are all women. In fact, as a woman-owned business, we get preferential treatment in the bidding process with our primary customers, Department of Defense contractors and government program offices.

"But did you notice anything special about these women?"

"Well, they are all quite attractive."

"Yes, they most certainly are. This serves two purposes. First, it makes our customers call back for more — more cost-benefit briefings, more spec work-outs, more follow-ups. And those are all billable hours. Further, it makes them think of us first when considering a new project."

"Yes, I guess it would help there. I take it that you think I can contribute at least a little bit in that regard."

"Don't be silly, Miss Chow. Or may I call you Grace? You're twenty-five years old, and you look seventeen. Your hair is so black and silky it looks almost blue. Your Asian features and flawless skin are perfect. And your sleek body, if you don't mind my saying so, is exquisite."

I felt my face flushing. This was extremely uncomfortable. I knew, of course, that I was attractive, even beautiful, but to discuss such a matter during a job interview was rather odd, to say the least. I had been brought up to want to earn everything on scholastic merit, not mere physical appearance.

"Ms. Wilson, I am serious when I say I am looking to make a career on my talents and efforts, not on my looks. Is that all this is about?"

"Oh, heavens no, child! You wouldn't be sitting here if you weren't eminently qualified to be a star in this industry. The women of Wilson Consulting are not only lovely, but they are top flight professionals as well. Don't you worry about that. Now, I must confess, that even given your clearly documented intelligence and work ethic, had you not been up to snuff physically, I probably wouldn't be offering you the job. However, your friend Cynthia said you'd fit right in physically, and she was right. Now, does this revelation bother you, or can you work in an environment like this?"

Cynthia had been a year ahead of me in my graduate program. Like me, she was Asian, and I had always considered her to be quite beautiful. She'd been with Wilson Consulting for over a year, and she loved it. Since Cynthia had sort of been my mentor in Grad school, I figured following her lead one more time wouldn't be a bad idea.

"I think I can live with that. After all, men in our field get so many unfair advantages; why not get a few of our own? But I intend to use my professional skills first and foremost."

"Of course, Grace, and we expect that, too. Now, has Cynthia mentioned anything about the upcoming tests or about our sanctioning program here at Wilson Consulting?"

"Umm, I don't think so."

"Well, if you don't think so, then she didn't. You see, the tests, together with the sanctioning program, make up the second reason I hire only attractive young women — it makes their execution much more enjoyable. But before we get into that, let me provide the incentives and rules for the tests. Then all will soon become clear.

"First, you will sign this waiver agreeing to take the tests. You will at all times during the tests be permitted to say 'stop the test' or anything similar and the test will immediately end. If you do so, you will be paid five-thousand dollars for your trouble and for the waiver's non-disclosure clause and you will be politely shown out. You will be free to find that sixty-K job that I know is out there for you. However, if you make it through both tests, you will be paid ten-thousand dollars as a signing bonus and you will start tomorrow at eighty-K. Make sense?"

"Sure, where do I sign?"

Paperwork done, Ms. Wilson arose from her chair and removed her suit jacket. Underneath she wore a sleeveless knit top. For the first time I noticed how large her breasts were. As always happens in such circumstances, I felt a momentary quail when I thought of my barely-B-cup chest.

She walked around the desk and extended a hand to me. I took it, and stood up, only to be led to the couch along one wall.

"Grace, we have a simple but very effective system of sanctions here that contributes to our success and to the loyalty of our 'sisterhood.' Your tests this afternoon are designed to determine whether or not you are willing to operate within this sanctioning system.

"Now, sanctions can be either rewards or punishments. Since punishments are, by their very nature, unpleasant, we will begin with that. Hopefully if you stick it out, you will get the compensating reward as part of your second and final test.

"Now, as an employee, if you make a mistake, cause us difficulties with a client, or in any other way require the negative sanctioning protocol, you will not be yelled at, you will not have your pay docked, and you will not be humiliated in front of your co-workers. You will be spanked, by me, in this office."

"Spanked? Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am quite serious. Every single female employee of this firm has been through this test, and most of them have had the experience of being spanked for cause as well. Your friend Cynthia endured this test, and a month later she spoke out of turn in a client meeting. The next morning she was spanked severely. As you know, she remains a very happy employee. Would you like to proceed, or are you asking to stop the test?"

Cynthia had allowed this woman to spank her? At least twice? And she had not only taken the job, but had stayed here for over a year? Well, it must be no big deal then, but wow, this Ms. Wilson was a bit of a weirdo.

"No, Ms. Wilson, please administer the test.

Ms. Wilson was much bigger than my five-feet, two inches and one hundred pounds. She didn't exactly force me into position, but before I knew it she had guided me onto my elbows and knees on the couch, my bottom thrust high into the air.

Gently but efficiently, she pulled the skirt of my business suit up over my hips, bunching it up around my waist. My white panties were exposed to her view. For some reason, I felt relief that I had worn them, instead of something too sexy. That is, until she expressed her appreciation for the "schoolgirl look". My face burned.

"When punishing an employee, I try to be formal. I don't use familiarity or first names. So, Miss Chow, this is the punishment for the smallest infractions."

She punctuated this statement with a hard, open-handed swat across my ass. I yelped.

"Keep your bottom to the sky, Miss Chow, or more severe measures will be taken."

I struggled to maintain the regulation position as she struck my displayed rump several more times. Although they stung like anything, I also began to feel a warmth begin to spread across my backside, through my belly, and between my legs. In shame, I buried my face between my forearms, flat against the cushion.

Had Cynthia actually endured this? Had my pretty friend displayed her panties on this very couch to be castigated by the severe, forty-ish, and quite attractive Ms. Wilson? I had seen Cynthia's body in tight clothes before, but now I was imagining it as bared as mine was, taking a solid thrashing. I groaned, not at the latest blow but at the twisting and awful pleasure in my gut.

As if she were reading my mind, Ms. Wilson took this opportunity to stop striking me and begin stroking my panty-clad rear. It was soothing, erotic, but quite insufficient, so I was happy when a fingertip or two managed to lightly brush across my crease. But then it stopped, and while I contemplated the significance of my pleasure at a woman's hand, Ms. Wilson pulled my panties off my hips and down my thighs, to stretch between my legs just above the knees. I felt the cool air across my moist slit and buried my face deeper in my shame.

"For more severe infractions, Miss Chow, the bare-bottom spanking is required."