Chapter 1

I’m a real prick to work for. I’ve been accused of being arrogant by people who were in the act of leaving my employ; not to mention cruel, short tempered, rude, crude, obnoxious, the list goes on like that. I proudly admit to that and more. I can be a total asshole. If that’s what it takes to keep my employees in line ... aw, who am I trying to kid. That’s just the way I am. If they don’t like it they can quit. Unfortunately, that’s what a lot of people working for me do. Not so much the people outside of my office. I don’t come into contact with those people as often. Carl, my younger brother, is in charge of production. The biggest problem I have is keeping a decent secretary.

Whenever I hire a new girl I always tell them I’m an asshole right up front. I guess the broads who take the job anyway figure they can put up with anything as long as they get a paycheck at the end of the week. But the last few secretaries I’ve hired have all quit within two months. Except for Barbara, of course. I fired that lazy bitch.

Anyway, that’s why I’m going to have to spend an already miserable Monday morning interviewing for a new secretary. As usual, personnel sent me folders for the women I’m going to have to interview. They always send me the top five candidates except that this time there’s a sixth folder with a note on the front. It seems that one of the men who works on the floor asked Carl to put in a word for his wife. Carl spoke to Dupree in personnel. Dupree sent me her folder with a note that explained the circumstances but noted she isn’t a top five candidate or anywhere near it. Under any other circumstances he’d never have sent me her file. He suggested, however, that if I have the time I might enjoy interviewing her anyway.

I found out why when I opened her folder. One of the first documents in the folder is a copy of her driver’s license. I almost laughed when I saw it. She’s just a kid; twenty years old. But she’s damn good looking. Even her driver’s license photo is hot; but in an innocent kind of way, not sex kitten hot.

I shook my head in amusement and put the folder on the bottom of the stack. I’m sure I’d enjoy the hell out of fucking her but I have no intention of interviewing her. I called out to my temporary secretary/receptionist and told her to send in the first woman to be interviewed.

By the time I finished the five interviews almost two hours later three women told me they wouldn’t work for me for any amount of money. The other two left a lot to be desired but were too desperate to turn down any job.

I was reluctant to choose either one of them but I need to hire someone and I need them now. I wasn’t even going to bother interviewing the sixth girl. She isn’t really qualified. But just for the hell of it I decided to talk to her. I wouldn’t have if there had been a more suitable applicant among the first five, or if she wasn’t so damn pretty. If nothing else I might at least get a little entertainment out of this. I called out and had her sent in.

A moment later this hot little blonde is standing in front of my desk. She looks terrified. And she looks even younger than her twenty years. If I saw her walking down the street I’d probably put her age at a lot closer to sixteen than twenty.

I let her stand there while I looked her over for a couple of minutes. I can’t tell much about her body because of the awful outfit she’s wearing. To look at her you’d think nuns bought her clothes for her. But her frumpy clothing can’t totally disguise her appearance. She has long honey-blonde hair, a very pretty face with those pouty lips some women have that look like they were made for sucking cock, bright blue eyes; all-in-all a very attractive package.

She glanced up at me a couple times but most of the time she stared at the floor at her feet and waited for me to say something. I recognized the look in her eyes as soon as I saw it, though, and a shiver of recognition ran down my spine. I saw much more in her expressive eyes than the fear that she won’t be chosen for the job.

I stared at her for long enough to make her even more uncomfortable before I finally ordered her to take a seat. I watched as she sat down, careful to arrange her long skirt modestly over her knees. I sat back in my chair, picked up her folder and for the first time I examined more than just the photocopy of her driver’s license.

According to her application she possesses only the most rudimentary secretarial skills. She’s unfamiliar with the software we use. Her only work experience beyond working in fast food restaurants was volunteering at the library while she was still in high school and a short lived job working in the front office of a local trucking firm primarily as a file clerk. I can’t help but notice the space where it asks why she left that job has been left blank. That’s never a good sign.

I finally looked up and said, “Mrs. Orvis, you aren’t really qualified to work here. What can you say to convince me I should hire you anyway?”

Before she could respond I said, “You look terrified. Are you afraid of black men in general or just me?”

She looked up then with near panic in her eyes. She exclaimed, “NO! NO, SIR! It isn’t that! Honest! It’s just that ... I really need this job. We ... I’m desperate. Things haven’t been going well for us and ... please, sir. Just give me a chance. I know I have a lot to learn. But I’m smart. I know I can learn it.”

There’s more than desperation in her eyes, though. That’s the only reason I haven’t already laughed her right out of my office. I see something there I haven’t seen in years. This cute little thing is a submissive! I wonder if her husband knows. Hell! I wonder if she knows!

I picked up the intercom and called Dupree. When he answered I asked him to send me her husband’s employment records. While I was waiting I asked, “What makes you so desperate for this job?”

She commenced an almost incomprehensible tale of woe that might have brought me to tears if I gave a shit. I finally held up my hand to stop her and said, “Enough!”

She stopped in mid word. I think it was then that she figured out I’m just playing with her, that I have no intention of hiring her.

She whispered, “Please, Mr. Williams. I’ll ... I’m desperate. I’ll ... I’m willing to do anything.”

I looked at her closely. I don’t think she means that the way I’m inclined to take it. She’s too young and naïve for that. But I have a feeling that whether she meant to imply she really will do anything or not, she’s quite likely malleable enough that I can actually get her to do just about anything.

A girl from personnel showed up then with her husband’s records. I took a moment to look them over. The kid is just a year older than his wife. He’s been working for me for about eight months. He isn’t overqualified either. Beyond the fact that he finished high school and worked at a few odd jobs there isn’t much to recommend him. He hasn’t screwed up since he started here. That’s the best I can say about him.

I spent the next couple of minutes explaining what she already knows; why she’s unqualified for the job. She looked like if she could have disappeared she would have. I finished telling her why she has no business even applying for this job and then I said, “But if you meant what you said earlier ... maybe we can work something out.”

The look of surprise on her face when I jerked her back from the abyss so suddenly was comical. I think the meaning of my statement went right over her head, though. I’m about to find out.

I had to take another quick look at her application. I couldn’t remember her first name. Riley?! What the hell kind of name is that for a girl?! Oh well. I don’t plan to marry her. But I haven’t fucked a little white girl in a long time. I might be able to take advantage of this little cunt and have a little fun until she wises up and runs away.

Reading from her license I said, “I have your age, your height and your weight from your driver’s license. It doesn’t tell me your measurements.”

She was shocked that I asked. We’re both well aware of how inappropriate, how illegal the question is. But still staring down at the floor she mumbled, “Thirty-four, twenty-two, thirty-five.”

“Thirty-four what?”

“A.”

I sat up in my chair and ordered her to come around my desk and stand beside me. The dumb broad still doesn’t have a clue! She looks confused by my order. But she seems to have taken it as a good sign that I didn’t kick her out of my office.

She stopped near the corner of my desk but I crooked a finger at her to indicate I want her to stand closer. A moment later she stood beside me with her hands clasped in front of her. She looks so much like a little schoolgirl that it’s giving me hard on. I looked her over and said, “If I hire you you’re going to have to make some major changes in the way you dress.”

She furrowed her brow. Still no clue! She’s probably standing there thinking this is her nicest outfit!

I looked up, looking right into her eyes. When our eyes met I calmly reached out and rested my right hand on the inside of her right calf.

She jumped and started to step back but she froze when I growled, “Don’t you fucking move!”

I slowly moved my hand up to just above her knee while I continued to stare into her eyes. She didn’t move. But she started shaking her head and muttering, “No. Please stop. Don’t do that.”

All the stupid bitch has to do is step back! But she stayed right there. If she can’t muster anything stronger than a muttered plea for me to stop, a plea that was so quiet I almost missed it, then I’m not inclined to pay much attention to her.

I told her again that there are going to have to be some major changes in her wardrobe if she wants to work for me. But this time I was a little more explicit. I moved my hand up a little higher and said, “I suppose you’re wearing pantyhose. I hate them. You’ll not be allowed to wear them again. Your skirts will have to be much shorter, above where my hand is now. And that top! Is that a blouse or a bulletproof vest?!”

She’s still shaking her head back and forth slowly as though she isn’t even aware she’s doing it. Instead of answering my facetious question she whispered, “Please, Mr. Williams. Please remove your hand from my ... please stop touching me.”

I left my hand right where it was and said, “If you don’t want my hand there all you have to do is take a step back. It’s up to you, Riley.”

She didn’t move. She still didn’t move when I asked, “Have you ever fucked a black man?”

She gasped loudly and exclaimed, “I’m married!”

“That wasn’t the question. I know you’re married. Your husband works for me. The only reason I’m talking to you now is that your husband asked his supervisor to put in a good word for you. You certainly aren’t here because you’re qualified for the job!”

She shuddered when I moved my hand up a little farther. It’s on her upper thigh now, no more than two inches below her crotch. But she still didn’t move. And she still didn’t answer me.

“I asked you a question, Riley.”

She moaned and quietly breathed, “No.”

“No what?”

“No. I never ... with a black man.”

“Fucked, Riley. You never fucked a black man. And don’t forget your manners. You will address me as sir.”

Before she could respond I moved my hand the rest of the way up, not stopping until my fingers were pressed up against the sensitive flesh between her thighs and my thumb was resting over her slit. But there’s still the problem of those damn pantyhose. God I hate those things!

Riley jumped again when my hand reached her sex. But she still didn’t do the one thing she has to do to put an end to this. She didn’t take that step back that would take her out of my reach and at the same time disqualify her for the job.

The funny thing about this situation is that I don’t think she’s even thinking about the job now. She doesn’t want to do this. That’s obvious. But she’s such a submissive little creature that she can’t bring herself to do what she has to do to stop me. Somewhere deep inside of her she may even be excited by this situation and not even realize it on a conscious level. That isn’t important, though. The important thing is that I’m enjoying myself.

I thought her legs were going to go out from under her when I started moving the pad of my thumb over her clit. She reached out as if to grab me to steady herself. But she drew her hands back as though she nearly stuck them into a fire. Instead, she rested one hand on the corner of my desk and managed to steady herself.

She sounded like she was going to start crying when she quietly said, “Please, sir. Please stop that. Please stop touching me.”

As if she hadn’t spoken I commanded, “Remove that stupid vest and your blouse.”

Her eyes almost popped out of her head and she shook her head violently. But she still didn’t move back out of my reach.

I glared at her and snarled, “DO IT!”

You would have thought I slapped her. Her body stiffened up as though someone just shoved a stick up her ass. But she didn’t move out of reach. She stood right there and let me strum a tune on her clit. She didn’t move out of reach, but she wasn’t removing her clothes, either. I gave her a few more seconds before I growled, “Obey me or get out of my office.”

All she has to do is turn and walk away. I’ll be left with a raging hard on but this will all be just a bad memory for her. Instead, with tears running down her cheeks she reached up and slid her vest off. She stood there holding it for the longest time until I finally said, “Just drop the fucking thing on the floor! You won’t be wearing it again.”

She looked down at the floor beside her and slowly let the vest fall from her hand. Then, with no further urging from me she began to slowly unbutton her blouse. I’ve put the fear of me into a lot of the women who have worked for me over the years. But I’ve never seen hands shake like hers.

While she was struggling with her buttons I pulled my hand out from between her legs and, still under her skirt, I slid it up over her taut stomach. I had hoped to be able to pull her pantyhose down and get them out of my way. Unfortunately they extend up past her waist and are held in place by her belt and the waistband of her Mother Hubbard skirt. I’m tempted to just jerk them down anyway but I decided that watching her bare her body a little bit at a time is more entertaining.

I slowly moved my hand down and slid it back between her legs. My thumb just naturally came to rest on her clit and I resumed my slow strumming. To look at her face you’d think she’s totally unaware of where my hand is and what my thumb is doing. But I noticed that the crotch of her pantyhose feels damp. I can’t be certain. But I look forward to examining her panties closely and finding out if I’m right.

I wasn’t surprised by the industrial grade bra she uncovered when she finally pulled her blouse off. It’s laughable when you take into consideration the size of her pert little breasts. The bra may be an A cup but there might be more than a little wishful thinking there. Hell! With those tits she doesn’t even need a bra!

I waited to see what she’s going to do now. I only ordered her to remove her vest and her blouse. That has been accomplished. Now she’s standing there with my hand pressing against her pussy, terrified, dreading the command she must know is coming next. I’m probably the only man other than her husband to ever see her in just her bra from the waist up. It’s a god-awful bra; the last kind of thing you’d expect a pretty young woman like her to wear.

I let her wait, letting the fear and anticipation build for a long moment before I said, “That’s the ugliest damn bra I’ve ever seen. But you can keep it on for a few more minutes. I want you to remove your skirt and those fucking pantyhose now. If you please me and I decide to hire you I’d better not ever see you wearing pantyhose again. That goes for those ugly damn bras, too.”

She seemed to be weighing what I’d just said. It’s obvious she isn’t as keen to get the job as she was when she first walked into my office. But I’m convinced she isn’t doing the things she’s doing now in order to convince me to hire her. She’s letting me humiliate her like this for a deeper reason. I suspect she’s one of those women who have had submissive fantasies since puberty but never had the opportunity to experience the reality before now. I’m sure she never thought she would. I’m certain she has very mixed feelings about this. I don’t doubt she hates what I’m making her do. I’m equally certain this is turning her on, though I doubt if she’d admit it. Not even to herself!

I’ve never met her husband. But I’m willing to bet he’s a regular Casper Milquetoast. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’s one of those pussy white boys who gets off on watching his wife getting put to good use by a virile black man. I hear there are a lot of them around. Maybe I’ll give him a chance to find out what his young bride looks like when she’s getting pounded by nine inches of thick, black cock. It’s pretty obvious now that, like it or not, this dumb cunt is going to let me do any damn thing I want to her.

She has hesitated long enough that I’m just about to lose my temper and she knows it. The tears are still flowing down her cheeks and dripping down onto her far too substantial bra. She’s standing there partially undressed with a strange man’s hand on her pussy while she cries silently. Christ she’s turning me on! I know she didn’t expect to find herself in a position like this when she left the house this morning!

She quietly repeated her plea that I remove my hand from under her skirt. But she didn’t step back and there’s a total lack of conviction in her little girl voice. Not that she doesn’t want me to stop. She obviously does. But even so, she’s apparently willing to let me do anything I want to her; not in order to convince me to give her the job but for the simple reason that she’s a submissive. Something in her brain is wired in such a way that she can’t say no ... or at least she can’t say it convincingly.

Rather than respond to her latest plea I pinched an inch of her thigh between my thumb and finger and squeezed until she squeaked and then held her breath. Her eyes slammed shut and under her breath she began to chant, “Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! I’ll do it! I’ll do it! That hurts!”

I moved my hand back between her legs and pressed it against her taint once more. My thumb just naturally returned to gently massaging her clit which is now noticeably swollen. I can feel it even through her pantyhose and what I’m certain is a pair of thick cotton granny panties.

She exhaled loudly when I stopped pinching her sensitive upper thigh. Then she moaned when my thumb came back into contact with her clit. I had to smile at that. The little bitch is starting to get off on this! The realization that she’s getting turned on by what I’m doing to her must be tearing her up!

I watched as she unfastened her thin, imitation leather belt and dropped it on the floor. Her hands went behind her back and seconds later I heard the quiet sound of her zipper being pulled down. She didn’t move for a moment. She held the waistband of her skirt together and took a few loud, labored breaths. I assume she’s gathering her courage. She’s about to do something that would have been unthinkable to her an hour ago.

I pulled my hand out from under her skirt and watched as she finally brought her hands around to the sides of her skirt and pushed it slowly down over her hips. Once past her hips she let it go and it fell to the floor. She stepped out of it and pushed it aside with her foot.

I was right about her panties. They’re just about as sexy as a pair of boxer shorts. But I have to smile. Even through the pantyhose I can see a small, dark, wet spot over her pussy. It’s possible that’s a purely physical reaction to what I’ve been doing with my thumb. But I doubt it. Even now, as embarrassed as she is, I can look into her eyes and see into the heart of a true submissive. She obviously has very mixed emotions about experiencing her fantasies. But that’s alright. I’m more than eager enough for both of us.

She stepped out of her shoes and began to pull her pantyhose down off her hips and then work them down her legs. After a brief struggle she finally pulled them off her feet and straightened up. I got my first good look at her legs. I must admit they’re impressive; long and slender, firm and athletic looking. I’m going to enjoy having them wrapped around me.

I ordered her to turn around slowly so I can get a good look at her. I could have made her remove her bra and panties first. But dragging it out like this is kind of exciting, for me at least.

Her ass isn’t too bad for a white girl. It isn’t as big as I like them. But it’s high and firm. I could almost put my coffee mug on it and have it stay there. While her back was still to me I reached out, cupped one of those sweet cheeks and asked, “Have you ever been fucked in the ass, Riley?”

She gasped again. But then she caught her breath and in an irritating, whiny voice that grates on my nerves she exclaimed, “God no!! Never!!”

She means ‘not yet.’ She just doesn’t know it yet.

I released my grip on her cute little ass and let her finish turning. When she was facing me again I asked, “Do you and your husband hate sex?”

She looked at me with that confused look on her face again. It was several moments before she stuttered, “N-n-no, s-sir!”

I sighed to let her know there’s little doubt in my mind I’m dealing with an idiot and asked, “Are all of your bras and panties this sexy?”

“I ... I mean ... I thought...”

She has no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe she really is stupid. She has to know that underwear like she’s wearing can take the starch out of a potato. I shook my head and exclaimed, “Christ, Riley! Even a fucking nun wears more feminine underwear than that shit! How often do you and your husband fuck?”

I wouldn’t have thought it possible. But she turned an even darker shade of red before she finally whispered, “We do it every week!”

“Once a week?! How long have you been married?”

“Almost six months.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “What’s his name ... oh yeah! Brad. How big are Brad’s balls? They can’t be any bigger than a pea if he’s only banging you once a week! Either that or he’s gay! Any normal guy would be slapping the meat to you at least once a day for the first year or two. You could use some bigger tits. But you got a pretty nice ass for a white girl and you ain’t bad looking. Maybe after I get you straightened out I should work on him! He’ll never be anything but a flunky if he doesn’t grow a set of balls.”

She started to speak, to defend her husband I guess. I waved my hand to indicate I don’t want to hear it and ordered her to finish undressing. It isn’t as if she didn’t know the order was coming. But the words seemed to cause the blood to drain from her head. Her face went from bright red to pale white in not much more than an instant. I thought at first she was going to faint. She stopped breathing for a moment and held her hands over her face as though by doing so she would disappear. It probably did nothing for her state of mind when I laughed out loud. I couldn’t help it. Silly ass broad!

She dropped her hands for a moment and then reached behind her back. As she struggled with the clasp on her bra her face changed color again, back to bright red as she contemplated baring her tits to a man she just met. I’d be surprised if it isn’t just a little bit more traumatic because I’m a very dark skinned black man. I noticed on her application she was born in Georgia. I’ve never met a white person from Georgia or any of the surrounding states who isn’t prejudiced to one degree or another. It’s so ingrained in them that I think it must be in their DNA by now.

It took her long enough. But she finally unhooked her bra. She held onto the ends of the straps and slowly brought them down to her sides so that the cups remained in place for another moment or two while she gathered her courage.

She reached up and put her hands on the shoulder straps and looked at me, her eyes pleading with me to end this humiliation; to let her put her clothes back on. I had to smile. She doesn’t seem to realize what my reaction is to that look on her face. She’s just making my already erect cock a little harder and causing it to throb in protest against the constriction of my clothing. I can’t wait to feel those pouty lips wrapped around my cock. I’m anxiously looking forward to feeling those warm tears running down onto my thighs while she chokes on my cock. That brings to mind another question!

She finally eased her shoulder straps down and the cups fell away from her little tits. They aren’t very big. But they’re sure as hell perfect. They don’t even look all that small on her slender little body. Before she could drop the bra I grabbed it out of her hand. I grinned when I saw how hard her nipples are. But then I looked for the label on the bra. While I was turning it over to see what size the cups are I asked, “Have you ever sucked a cock, Riley?”

Again that sharp intake of breath. The label confirmed her statement, A cups. But only just barely to look at them. She’s embarrassed about it, too. She’s embarrassed about standing there in just her panties anyway. But I can tell she’s even more embarrassed because her breasts are small. She watched me look at the label and she knew what I was looking for.

I dropped the bra and looked her in the eye. I’m still waiting for an answer. She could only meet my gaze for a second or two before she buried her face in her hands again. There was a long pause before she moaned, “Please don’t ... I can’t ... please, sir.”

I almost had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. God this is fun! I struggled to keep a straight face and growled, “Answer the fucking question, cunt!”

“Oh god! Don’t ... once! I did it once! It was awful. I ... he ... when it was over I ... made a mess. I never did it again. It was nasty!”

I did laugh then. And then I said, “Yeah. It is nasty. I’d sure as hell never do it. But you’re going to do it again. You’ll be doing it fairly often from now on. I love looking down at my lap and seeing a pretty blonde head bobbing up and down. I’m warning you right now, if you make a mess in here I’ll rub your nose in it and then take my belt to that skinny ass of yours. So make up your mind to get over that prissy shit now. Being a cocksucker is just part of your job description here.”

There were a few seconds there when it looked like she was ready to run for it without even bothering to pick up her clothes first. But then she visibly gave in. She kind of slumped and there was a look of equal parts desperation and resignation on her face that would have broken my heart if I were a nice guy. But I’m not. Like I said, I’m a prick.

In that moment she had given up so entirely that without waiting to be told she began to peel her panties down. I wasn’t surprised to see that no razor has ever been anywhere near her pubic hair. That’s another change I’m going to make.

She stepped out of her panties and pushed them aside but I ordered her to pick them up and hand them to me. She bent, careful to keep her knees together as she did. I can’t help smiling at that. She has to know it doesn’t make a difference now; not after the crude questions I’ve asked and not if I’ve got her standing there naked. She knows she’s only minutes away from having sex with a man who isn’t her husband, a black man who isn’t going to take no for an answer. But if bending down modestly helps her cope then so be it.

She picked her panties up again. She held them out to me with a shaking hand. I took them from her and turned them inside out. She groaned as she watched me sniff them and then run my thumb over the lining. I almost laughed out loud. Just as I suspected, the damn things are sopping wet!

I ordered her to spread her legs shoulder width apart and I looked more closely at her mound. It’s obvious she’s aroused. It’s difficult to see through all the hair but I can see well enough to know that her vulva is red and swollen. Her juices are clinging to her tight little opening and glistening in the light from my windows.

It only then occurred to me that the blinds are open. I almost never close them. I never even think about them. Most of one wall of my office is glass. I don’t have to worry much about a lack of privacy, though. Only the grounds crew are ever out there. They’re out there fairly often, mowing, trimming the shrubs, weeding and whatever else they do. I just never pay any attention to them. If any of them are out there now they probably have a pretty good view of Mrs. Bradley Orvis in all her glory.

I reached out and ran a finger through her moist slit. She shuddered and her sexy little body jerked in reaction to the touch of my large finger on her sensitive flesh. But still she remained in place. She moaned as the tip of my finger explored her opening. I teased her, spreading her slick lubricant around her opening for a moment before I pushed one of my fingers slowly inside of her.

Chapter 2 »