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From: James Houblon <jameshoublon@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Plunketting's Bank, The Career Appraisal (M/F Humil, Comedy)
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Date: Wed, 13 Oct 2010 20:10:08 -0400
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The following is based upon real life characters and a real life bank,
still trading today.  Mr Plunketting's (name changed for legal
reasons), continues to take a keen interest in his employees careers,
and further reporting on his progess in steering his venerable
institution along its successful path are available shortly from the
author.

The Career Appraisal

Mr Plunketting had been running a tight ship for close on 30 years.  A
successful medium size investment bank, and had latterly capitalised
on the new fad for hedge fund management, making yet another packet of
cash.  A traditional boss, of the old style, he took an active
interest in his staff, and rewarded them well.

This year, had been a very good one despite the global crisis.  As he
sat at his large mahogany desk, he contemplated a bonus pool of over
57 million dollars, that was at his disposal to grant to his hand
picked employees, both new and of long service to his firm.  His
office was of course on the corner of the 50th floor, the top,
overlooking the city.  His desk was embossed with a faded dark green
leather top, slightly worn and faded from several years use, and some
of the other accoutrements of the more traditional  business leader
looked out to a view that he often contemplated when having to come to
the weighty decisions that were his responsibilities at the bank.

He took his responsibilities seriously and particularly relished the
time of the year.  The annual staff career appraisal and the
allocation of what could for some, amount to very large cash bonuses.

He buzzed his secretary, Mildred McHew, a veteran of nearly 20 years
at Plunketting's. 'Ms McHew', send in our first candidate in 5 minutes
please, I am just reviewing her file'.  And buzzed off promptly.

'Human Resource Memo File - Mrs Hackenpecker', he read.  At 23, one of
the youngest hedge fund managers on the firm, newly married, a
graduate of Harvard Business School, Rhodes Scholar to Oxford,
interests including basketball where she had competed at national
level, extreme sports, and as a footnote, the women's right's
movement, a dissertation on which had won her scholarship to Oxford;
anti abortionist and anti contraception.  Quite a key player in the
markets already, with serious, although highly geared bets paying off
and the generation of particularly pleasing profits for his firm.
Real potential here, he thought, and an opportunity for her to receive
her first real lift into the world of the bank's high earning bonus
players.

'Send her in, Ms McHew', he buzzed through.

Ms Hackenpecker was dressed as usual in a trim, businesslike skirt
suit, black, the skirt just to the knee, sheer black stockings, and
while conservative very feminine high heeled shoes, highly polished,
her dark hair drawn back in a severe bun.  She strode purposely to the
large leather executive chair opposite Mr Plunketting and held his eye
as she sat facing him across his sumptuous desk.

'Mrs Hackenpecker, welcome', started Mr Plunketting, 'a good year!
You will share one would hope my pleasure in being able to tell you
that we have a very significant bonus pool this year, and that your
part of that is potentially very interesting', 'you will of course be
wondering about that, potential?'.

Indeed Mrs Hackenpecker had been thinking about her bonus.  She felt
that she deserved a lion's share of the pool.  Apart from the fact
that she was a top 5 salesperson, she was convinced that she would
have to fight for her fair share, like all her fellow women in the
corporate world and being the feminist that she most certainly was,
would fight for it.

'I understood Mr Plunketting that the pool this year ran to something
like 50 million US.  As an upper flight producer naturally I am
clearly interested in  hearing what my share is, and when it is
payable'.

'And you thought right, Mrs Hackenpecker.  Dependent upon this
appraisal, your share within the tier platform is anything from zero
percent, as you know this is entirely discretionary, to a maximum of
15%, that is to say from nothing up to about 8.5 million dollars,
yes.  There is of course also your contract renewal to think about,
you are now contractually how shall we say 'disposable', and part of
today's discussion will decide whether you make junior partner'.

'Shall we start, then.  Good, pop off your panties please, place them
up here on the desk and up you get too, raise the skirt when you are
settled'.

Mrs Hackenpecker thought that she had misheard. 'I beg your pardon?',
she said, her face reddening, her carefully painted lips tightening.

'Clearly you are new to our appraisal system here at Plunketting's.
If you could just remove your panties please, place them here, jump up
on the desk raise your skirt and lie back - its really quite a
comfortable desk you know'.

'I cannot believe that I am hearing this!  This is, this is illegal!
What the hell do you think you are up to!  I could sue your ass off
for this, and believe you me I am going to sue your perverted ass
off!'

'Mrs Hackenpecker, I must insist.  I take a very personal interest in
all potential partners of the firm, and the bonus potentially on
offer, is in the face of it, a lot of money, but reward well paid, you
are interested I take it?'

Carlotta Hackenpecker's mind was a whirl.  She was at once hypnotised
by the thought of taking a 8 million US bonus home to her ex-Lehman
Brothers and now unemployed husband.  On the other hand her strict
feminist outlook and belief that women had to fight to break the glass
ceiling was outraged - she should just walk on out now, she thought,
and sue the fucking corporation for sexual harassment.

Then again, how was she to prove it?  Her contract, such as it was,
was watertight with confidentiality clauses, and more obviously, it
would be her word against the respected Mr Plunketting and his
venerable bank.  Of course, thinking of the money, there would also
not be any witnesses should she comply with Mr Plunketting's request.

Reluctantly, she lifted her skirt, hitched her panties down over her
knees and her shiny shoes, and placed them on the table, within arms
length of Mr Plunketting.

'Marvellous, Mrs Hackenpecker, now up on the table, that's good, and
as I said just lie back, hitch up the skirt.  I think that you will
find it most comfortable'.



With Mrs Hackenpecker in place, Mr Plunketting's chubby hand reached
over for her discarded panties and he turned a benevolent eye upon
them for his preliminary inspection.  He noted with pleasure that they
were made of the finest black silk, still warm to the touch.  Turning
them over he inspected the gusset, saying, 'marvellous, not a stain
this year', before bringing the panties to his nose and inhaling
deeply.

'Heady, Mrs Hackenpecker, heady', murmured the connoisseur, 'sharp and
tangy, with earthy hints and an upper lemony tone, a strong vintage
year this really is'.  He inhaled once more and felt a slight stirring
in his trousers as he breathed in the smell of Mrs Hackenpecker's
pussy.

Carlotta Hackenpecker didn't know what to think.  Certainly the money,
and certainly how to get this madness in front of the women's sexual
harassment board.

'Now, just bend your knees and widen your legs somewhat and you can
lift the skirt a little higher, and shift forward please, yes, that's
right', stated Mr Plunketting.

Carlotta did as requested, her blood boiling with indignation, but her
business like mind focused on the money, the transaction, the 8
million pay dirt.

Mr Plunketting placed the panties to one side, after a final
appreciative sniff and turned instead to inspect Mrs Hackenpecker's
exposed pussy, now fully visible and framed nicely by the tops of her
stockings.  It was an arresting sight and Mr Plunketting eyed it with
keen interest.  'I do notice that you like to keep things trim, Mrs
Hackenpecker', as he observed her neatly shaped pubic bush, thick and
lushly hairy above, but shorn smooth and hairless to either side, and
ran his fingers through her lush wiry pubes.

Placing a thumb either side of her pussy Mr Plunketting parted the
lips, exposing Mrs Hackenpecker's delicate pink slit, naturally
slightly moistened along with her well developed clitoris.  'Now the
nub of the matter is before us.  You will shortly receive notice of
your share of the pie, Mrs Hackenpecker', he said as he lowered his
face to within a centimetre of her exposed, pouting pussy, and
breathed in her musky smell.  He felt a stirring in his well pressed
trousers, as Mrs Hackenpecker's pussy flavours filled his appreciative
nose. 'Now, just jump down here please, bend over the table, that's
good'.

Mrs Hackenpecker's blood boiled with indignation as she bent forward,
exposing her shapely bottom to Mr Plunketting's gaze.  As they taught
her in business school though, she was determined to remain focused.
Just focused on the money, trying to put the thoughts of her husband
out of her mind, a husband to whom she had always been faithful since
ever he had taken her virginity on their wedding night.  She also
determined to somehow find a way to sue for sexual harassment.  She
was sure that her sisters at the feminist support group would help her
find a way.

Mr Plunketting had the perfect view of Mrs Hackenpecker's perfect
bottom, he parted her buttocks and riveted his attention upon her
pink, slightly puckered anus, and bent forward to saviour its faintly
sweaty bouquet.   As the heavenly smell reached Mr Plunketting's
nostrils, he reached down and unzipped his pinstriped trousers,
unbuttoned his belt and unleashed his now fully erect cock.  Before
returning his attention to Mrs Hackenpecker's exposed pussy and ass,
he also opened his desk drawer, and took out a Plunketting's branded
envelope, and standing handed it up to Mrs Hackenpecker.

The act of standing and passing up the envelope caused Mr
Plunketting's now fully turgid cock to touch Mrs Hackenpecker's pussy
for the first time.  'Just what the hell is going on here', raced
through Carlotta Hackenpecker's mind, as she received the envelope and
cringed with horror as she felt what was clearly Mr Plunketting's cock
brush against her pussy, 'deal focus, deal focus, stay on message,
stay on message', she repeated to herself.

As Mrs Hackenpecker started opening the richly embossed envelope, Mr
Plunketting's gaze returned to the pink ring and soft furze of his
employee's ass and pussy.  His cock was now throbbing, and while he
was aware that at just three inches it was quite small, he had always
felt that this was more than compensated for by his outsized balls,
which swung between his legs like a pair of ripe grapefruits.  He
parted Mrs Hackenpecker's buttocks, again savouring the sight of her
little pink ass hole.

Staying focused and on message, Carlotta Hackenpecker concentrated on
opening the envelope, despite being aware that Mr Hackenpecker stood
behind her, and as she now knew with his cock primed, inches from her
exposed pussy and ass. She got the envelope open and quickly removing
the letter, unfolded it and scanned down the page.

She gasped aloud as her eyes focused the sum mid-way down the page,
'Eight Million Dollars, payable...', and she gasped again as she felt Mr
Hackenpecker's cock glide slowly into her pussy.  'The bastard's
raping me', she thought, as she felt Mr Plunketting's cock slide in
and out of her well groomed pussy, 'the bastard's fucking raping me,
but I can hardly feel the fucker's dick its so tiny', she thought, as
the details of the bonus letter swam before her eyes.  She again
determined to find away to get her fellow sisters to support her in
pressing charges and getting justice for her and all the exploited
women in the workplace.

Carlota Hackenpecker tried to remain focused as Mr Plunketting's
penetrated her with measured, businesslike strokes.  She tried to
focus on the terms of the contract as horrified, she felt Mr
Plunketting's huge balls knock into her thighs on each stroke in and
out of her pussy, which despite her feminist resolve had responded and
was now wet and slick and accommodating.  She gritted her teeth,
trying to stay on message, to push the envelope in management terms,
even as a strong sensation throbbed through her swollen clitoris.

Mr Plunketting prided himself on his stamina, despite the diminutive
size of his cock, and it was a full twenty minutes of measured
thrusting in and out of Mrs Hackenpecker's now slopping wet pussy,
before he started to feel the pressure in his balls rise.  He was
particularly happy with the outcome of this appraisal.  Mrs
Hackenpecker had passed with flying colours and with a final glance
down at her puckered anus, he said, 'most satisfactory, Mrs
Hackenpecker, most satisfactory indeed', and with that his impressive
balls shuddered and his little cock plunged to its depth into Carlota
Hackenpecker, and he began to blow his fertile load on both barrels,
deep into her pussy.

Mr Plunketting held himself in place, still admiring Mrs
Hackenpecker's puckered pink hole, as his balls pumped and pumped his
thick, rich brew into her.  He had had a full load on board and Mrs
Hackenpecker's pussy was soon overflowing with sticky hot sperm as
both of his oversized plums emptied into her.

Eventually Mr Plunketting was satisfied that his balls had emptied,
and he neatly retrieved his shrivelling pecker and set his trousers
straight.  'As I was saying Mrs Hackenpecker, a most satisfactory year
and an admirable appraisal.  You can pop your panties back on please,
and lets sign the paperwork!', he said, smiling with sated
satisfaction at a job well done.

Struggling with humiliation and anger, Carlota Hackenpecker retrieved
her discarded panties from the expanse of Mr Plunketting's wide desk
and struggled back into them.

Sitting again across from Mr Plunketting, the paperwork before her,
her fair share of the profit, well earned, her pussy had never felt so
full.  Her panties were soaked as reams of thick, still warm sperm
dribbled into them.  It felt as if someone had cracked a dozen eggs
inside her pussy, and she could already feel the rich goo overflow her
panty line and dribble down her legs.  She would have to get straight
to the female executive rest room and clean up as soon as she had
signed herself over the eight million buck bonus she so rightly felt
that she deserved.

She would work out later how she would sue the corporation for this
outrageous sexual harassment and rape.  She hoped that her much loved
husband, waiting unemployed at home, would not want to give her oral
pleasure this evening, at least before she had had the chance to
cleanse her pussy of what felt like at least a pint of semen, and she
worried about her unprotected womb, which she felt must also be
brimming with thick, lively sperm.

'Now Mrs Hackenpecker, as you will be well aware the bonus money will
be held in escrow for 120 days as per your contract with Plunketting's
Bank, and of course subject to the contract, which no doubt you will
have read', and with that he reached for his limited edition gold
embossed 'Fat Boy Meisterstuck' pen and with a flourish signed the
contract.

Mrs Hackenpecker, whose panties were now sopping wet with sticky
sperm, for her part countersigned, holding Mr Plunketting's eye as she
did so, and inwardly resolving to go directly to the female executive
rest room to try to scoop as much of the thick sperm as possible from
her full to the brim pussy.  She didn't think that it would be
possible to salvage her sopping wet panties and would have to trade
through the afternoon 'commando', and hope her hubby wasn't feeling
too amorous when she arrived home.  She struggled to think how she
would clean such copious  amounts of sperm from her pussy without
generous douching and a long bath.

'Well done, Mrs Hackenpecker, one hopes that you share my happiness at
your well earned reward and that after the hold off period that I can
welcome you as the latest partner to the firm. I look forward to the
final completion of this transaction in 3 months time, good day!'

Taking Mr Plunketting's last comment as the end to her appraisal, Mrs
Hackenpecker rose to leave, and as she did so felt yet more sperm
eject from her slick pussy and dribble slowly down her thighs.

Focused, on message, and stretching her personal envelope to the
limit, she squelched from the room.

Mr Plunketting reached for his humidor and extracted a Ghurkha's 'His
Majesty' cigar, lit it gently in the knowledge that he had done his
level best by his bank and his employees.  Hitting the intercom, he
murmured, 'Ms McHew, next up is I believe our six former trainee -
just give me twenty minutes please and send her in'.

IN THE NEXT ISSUE OF PLUNKETTING'S BANK, MR PLUNKETTING, PROPRIETOR,
SETS THE TONE OF THE CAREER PLAN OF CLARISSA PERKINGSLITE, AGE 17.

COMING SOON FROM THE DESK OF JAMES HOUBLON.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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