The Interview

As a job interview, it hadn't been going well.

She had been rushed getting to it this morning, and she most definitely wasn't wearing the right clothes for an interview. Her skirt was both too tight and too short, whereas her blouse was only too tight. It revealed too much in the front and she was trying not to think about that. She was sure her nipples were poking through the thin fabric.

It had been a long time since she had interviewed, and it was making her more nervous than she should have been. He was looking at the piece of paper, reading her all too brief resume. He was taking a long time.

He must be trying to think how to start, she thought to herself, because he could have read it several times by now.

“There seem to be some gaps in your work experience,” he said finally.

“I know,” she said, nervously crossed her legs. She thought she could see it in his eyes that she had dressed for a date and not an interview.

“It's the economy,” she continued, “I just haven't been able to find the work in this field.”

“I see,” he said. He gave a little shake of his head, and looked back at the sheet of paper.

“Has it really been a year since you last worked?” he asked.

“Oh no,” she said brightly, then thought better of it. She folded her hands in her lap, the one on the top squeezing the one on the bottom. She knew it was one of her tells, she knew that. “Yes, actually. Yes it has been.”

He leaned forward. She could feel him looking at her legs, and their well formed calves. Her heels were too long as well — Saturday night and not Monday morning.

“I'm confused,” he said, smiling gently. “Have you been working this past year or not?”

“Well...” she said, as though that were an answer.

“Well what?” he asked.

She bit her lip. She could see him suppress a smile. She didn't seem like the type to make such a little girl gesture.

“Well,” he prompted again, “Were you working or not?”

She paused, trying to think what she wanted to say. Unsure just how much she was willing to reveal.

“Yes,” she said finally. She looked down at her feet, with their freshly painted red nails underneath the black leather. She could tell he was waiting for her to go on, leaving a space for her to fill.

“Well that's good,” he said, when the awkward silence had become too much.

“Yeah?” She asked, and looked hopeful.

“Of course,” he said. “It is important to show continuity of work, even if it isn't in the same field.”

“Oh good,” she said brightly, but she was worried about the next question.

She squeezed her thighs together, and felt the reassuring pleasure as they squeezed her clit. When she relaxed them, she was surprised to feel that her thighs were wet. Being nervous always turned her on. In high school she could cum just from the stress of finals, but she didn't think she was wet enough to have soaked though her panties.

Panties! She realized. She had forgotten her panties in all the flustered preparation. That made her more nervous. So, of course, it made her more aroused.

She had forgotten she was doing this morning. So it was a shock when her phone buzzed with the reminder.

Fuck me! She had thought. How could I have forgotten this?

It was so important, but she wasn't her sharpest in the morning on the best of days. So she had dressed in a flurry, but she couldn't find the outfit she had planned to wear. That had flustered her even more, so she was forced, to do the best she could, knowing she couldn't be late. And somewhere in it all, she had forgotten her panties.

Her mind should have been on what he was saying, but all she could do was wonder if he could smell her, and how turned on that thought made her.

“What were you doing?” He asked.

She wasn't sure, but he might have asked this question twice, once when she was lost in remembering.

“Excuse me?” she asked.

“What was the work have you been doing since the last job on your resume?” He asked. His voice told her his patience was wearing thin.

She mumbled a response. She didn't know why, she knew he would just make her say it out loud.

“I'm sorry,” he didn't even try and hide the exasperation, “you are going to have to speak up.”

Her cheeks went red and hot, and she found she couldn't meet his eyes.

He put the resume down on the desk.

“I'm sorry,” he said, “but you are not the only candidate...”

“I worked for a Dominatrix,” she blurted it out all in a rush.

“I see,” this caught him by surprise. It took him a moment before he continued

“And what exactly did you do?” He asked, more curious than he had been so far. “Were you her assistant?”

“I was a submissive,” she said meekly. He smiled broadly.

“Were you now,” he said, not quite a question.

“You...” she paused, and started again. “You are going to want me to explain, aren't you?”

He narrowed his eyes, smiled broadly before he spoke. She felt like a rabbit that had just seen a hungry coyote.

“Oh I think I have a very good idea what you are talking about,” He said, leaning forward. “But it isn't hard to see the parallels between that kind of work and this.”

“Sure!” she brightened.

Perhaps he wasn't going to use this against her, she thought.

“So it only makes sense that we evaluate your work,” he said.

“My references are...” she began.

“Not that work,” he interrupted her. She knew she had been wrong. This was where he would see just how much she wanted it.

“Would you be so kind as to get up and close the door?” he said and gestured behind her.

She nodded automatically, and did as she was told. Her hands ran down her skirt as she stood, smoothing it into place. It pulled the fabric tight over her shapely buttocks.

When she turned back, she startled to see him standing next to her. She hadn't heard him, but she was lost wondering what would come next. He placed his hand one the small of her back. She leaned back into the touch and found his warm touch. He guided her back to the desk, and his hand slid up to the small of her back. Just how far was he going to take this?

“You,” he said, “let men spank you for money. Didn’t you?”

She looked down at his shoes, and nodded. She felt his hand pressing against her shoulder blades, and automatically began to bend at the waist. He stopped when she was bent halfway between standing and the desk.

“Nice,” he said. “I wonder just how far you will go today?”

You have no idea how much I need this, she thought to herself. How far she was willing to go.

“Pull up your skirt,” he said, not waiting for an answer.

She did, slowly, just gathering up the material in her hands until it began to expose her ass. The cloth caught for a moment, and then popped over, completely exposing her ass.

She knew he was going to spank her. She knew it. He had telegraphed it to her with that question, hadn’t he? Besides it was probably the most popular thing to do with a submissive. She would bet most of her clients had fantasized about spanking her over a desk.

And of course, she liked to be spanked.

It was the mind-fuck as much as the actual sensation. It was being put in her place, surrendering herself to the sensation. It was being a Bad Girl, and then being given the chance to be a Good one. It was the pain too; she had to admit she liked that as well. Nothing flipped her on switch like a good slap of the ass.

Not that she needed to be turned on any more than she was; she had been good-to-go since she had sat down.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable crack in the air of his hand connecting with her buttock – the sudden sting, the compression and rippling of her flesh. The jolt if he spanked hard enough to connect against her bones. Would it be soft and tentative, or would he show her he knew what he was doing? Would he cup his hand to make it louder, and always made it sting more?

She was so ready for that inevitable spank that she was startled to feel his hand rest gently on her inner thigh. He squeezed gently and she moaned. His hand slid up her thigh and hit the wetness, her legs parted automatically.

“You really want this,” he said as his fingers dragged up over her mound. His hand was warm and firm over her pussy. He dragged two fingers over her lips, and she jutted out her hips in hopes of keeping the contact as his hand pulled away.

“Yes,” she said, and pushed her ass back. Hoping he would take the hint.

“Yes what?” he asked.

“Yes Sir,” she answered automatically.

It was part of the game of being a submissive, being forced to call him by his title. Titles took you away from yourself. Let yourself become that other person – that person who would beg, and crawl, and who needed (not just wanted) to be spanked.

“Very nice,” he said. His hand slid over her ass and squeezed. “But that isn't what I was asking”

“I want what you want,” she said with a little wiggle. Hoping he would spank her. Then she added, “Sir.”

“Of course you do,” his voice nothing but confidence, “but what do you want?”

He was going to make her say it. She just wanted him to do it, to read her mind, and spank her, fuck her, and be the Dominant to her submissive; but he was taking his time, and was making her say it. It was a way of him reinforcing his control over her.

“I want you to spank me,” she moaned, “spank me like a whore sir.”

And as if in reward his hand came down against her ass. His hand was cupped, and it echoed in the room. She shivered with pleasure.

“Are you a whore?” he asked.

She nodded.

“No,” he scolded, “I need you to say it, whore”

Oh god, she thought, he said it.

He called her a whore. It really was a magic word to her, and she was sure, if she could just see her cunt, that it would be dripping.

“I'm a whore Sir,” she said. “A dirty whore.”

His hand came down on the other cheek. He held there, gently rubbing he stinging flesh.

If he so much as touched my clit, she thought, I am going to cum.

“A dirty whore?” He sounded amused. “A dirty worthless whore?”

She closed her eyes, savoring the words. Thinking about how it would look if someone came in. Seeing her there, her ass and pussy exposed, and calling herself a whore. But she was one, at least at these moments, and it turned her on so to hear the word said to her.

“I am YOUR dirty worthless whore Sir!” she said.

Another spank, this time harder than the before. Nor did he pause between them this time. He connected two more times. He squeezed her cheek hard, letting his fingers dig in to her. Possessing her.

“Yes you are,” he said, “and whores get fucked don't they?”

“Let me suck your cock first,” she said.

His hand gathered up a fistful of hair and squeezed, pulling her head back. His eyes were full of lust and hunger.

“It seems to me” he said, “that whores don't get a say in the matter.”

He spanked her again and asked, “Do they whore?”

“No Sir,” she said, her voice full of wanting, “Whores just do what they are told Sir.”

“Good whore,” he said.

His hand left her ass, and she heard the sound of his zipper coming down. She tried to turn her head to see his cock, but his grip wouldn't let her. She imagined the scene, working the fly with one hand, and pulling out his hard cock though the layers of clothing. Just exposing the bare minimum to fuck her.

She was broken from her reverie by the feeling of his smooth head pressing between the wet lips of her cunt. She was so wet, that his cock went in easily. She gasped as he began to slide into her, forcing her pussy to stretch around him, accommodating his width.

“What a good little whore you are,” he said, “and so ready to be fucked.”

“Mmmm-hmmm” she agreed, savoring the feel of being full. If she had been paying more attention, she would have realized she was humming to herself.

He began pumping his cock into her, building up to a comfortably fast good rhythm.

“You are worthless fucking whore,” he said.

“Yes!” she said, shoving her hips back at him.

He released her hair and her body dropped to the desk. She let go of her skirt and braced herself. He reached forward and dug his fingers into the gap between buttons. He shoved his cock in hard as he pulled the two halves of her blouse apart. The threading fought back, but it was no match for him. Buttons went flying across the offices.

Her bra clasped in the front, but he didn't bother to find that out. He simply scooped out her breasts and let them dangle unprotected. They swung to the pattern of his trusts.

“Slut!” he said on a particularly hard thrust. She moaned.

“Filthy slut!” The sound she made was somewhere between a moan and a laugh.

His hand slapped her breast as it swung.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, “yes I'm a filthy slut. God yes! Slut!”

She kept repeating the word to herself as he fucked her.

“Cum for me!” he demanded.

“No. Not yet,” She said between gasps.

“Now whore! Cum for me now!”

He reached forward and grabbed her breasts. Squeezing the nipples between his fingers.

“Be a good little cumslut,” he panted, “and cum for your master… right now!”

“Not yet,” she protested.

He released one of her breasts and spanked hard.

“Now you filthy worthless whore!”

He reached down between her legs to stroke her clit, but it wasn't needed. Those last words had pushed her over the edge, and by the time his fingers wrapped around her clit, her legs were already shaking. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and her body trembled. He worked her clit, intensifying and extending the orgasm. She collapsed against the desk, lost in sensation.

The measured pace of his thrusts faded away into a blind frenzy. He redoubled his grip on her breasts, squeezing and massaging them. His breathing had become ragged. She suddenly realized he was going to cum soon, those were all the little signs she was used to. She pushed back against him, and kept pushing until he was so far back that she could pull away from his cock.

His cock felt amazing inside of her, and it would be so easy to just let him cum inside of her. It would feel so good too; but she wanted her reward, and she was going to have it.

She slid down her knees; grateful she didn't need to stand for this. She was still experiencing the aftershocks of orgasm, and her legs were far from reliable. She took his cock in her hand and began rubbing her lips on it.

“Please Sir”, she begged, “Please give you slut her reward. Please cum for your whore Sir. Please...”

He trusts his cock into her mouth as she was saying the last words. Her lips tried to form the words one more time around his hard member. She placed a hand on his balls, gently running her nails over them. Her tongue worked over the head and then on the shaft as he pushed passed it and deep into her mouth. Then he pulled back until just head was inside of her. She locked her lips around it, and let the tip of her tongue play around the glands.

He erupted in her mouth. She immediately knew she wasn't going to be able to hold it all in her mouth, but apparently he had no plans for that either. He pulled out of her mouth and the next spurt caught her on the face. He stoked his cock in his fist and deposited more of his seed on her breasts, neck, and blouse.

She slumped back, her head resting against the desk. She scooped up some of the cum from her breasts and licked it off her finger.

“You cheater,” She admonished, “you weren’t going to give my mouthful!” She pouted and dropped her eyelids. “How else do I get to know if I am a Good Girl?”

He bent down, put his hands under armpits, and pulled her upright.

“Well you are going to be a Bad Girl, if you don’t get upstairs and take a shower right now,” he said. “I will call Tom, your assistant, and let him know you are going to be late.”

“Meanie,” she pouted again. She examined the ruined blouse — ripped and missing buttons. She thought for a moment and asked, “Hey! Did you hide the outfit I was planning to wear?”

“Of course I did,” he said with a big grin.

“You are a mean Master,” she said and then kissed him, “but a good husband. Thank you for coming up with this.”

“Well wife,” he said, “with all the hours you have been putting in, I know you have been missing this as much as I. And it has been a while since we did a nice role-play. But I am not kidding, get up there and take your shower!”

He gave her a spank to get her on her way.

“By the time, you are done and dressed, I will have some breakfast waiting for you in the car,” he said as she hustled up the stairs.

“I love you Sir,” she called as she stripped out of her soiled blouse.

“I love you too Whore,” and he shut the door to his little office and turned to go into the kitchen.