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Article 10 of 657
Subject: NEW The Practice 2/3 (m/f, f/f, mc, b/d, nc)
From: evil@bay.com (Marlissa)
Date: 1996/11/30
Message-Id: <57plg6$7ip@decius.ultra.net>
Organization: UltraNet Communications, Inc.
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Julianna Linders efficiently and speedily explained her condition,
concluding with her own self-analysis and perscription. "All I really
need are some sleeping pills to get me through the next few weeks and
I'll be fine. Obviously," she shrugged wearily, "I'm a business
major, not a doctor, so I can't do it myself. I mean, we can go
through all this again, if you insist." Her gray eyes delivered this
comment with the barest trace of boredom at the prospect. "But of
course the real problem is that I've been studying my butt off and I
need to get caught up on my sleep."
Doctor Dent essentially agreed with the college senior's assessment.
Like everything else about her, it was to the point and unarguable.
She was a pale short-cropped brunette with a flipped up nose and
slightly clenched smile that was more business than pleasure. Her
body was unremarkable, if tall and thin, and her figure was more
angles than feminine curves. He suspected she was underweight by a
few pounds. Not much of a dresser either in her Columbia sweatshirt,
baggy khakis and sneakers. There was the barest trace of gloss on her
thin lips and just a dash of blush on her high wan cheeks. And she
wore absolutely no jewelry whatsoever. She certainly hadn’t dressed
to impress the good doctor.
Hmmmm, pondered Dent. That wasn’t very respectful now, was it
Julianna?
"So, tell me about this stress of yours Ms. Linders? May I call you
Julie?"
Her response was immediate and in the negative. "No—you may not. I
hate the way people automatically assume they can shorten your name.
It’s Julianna—really, I must insist Doctor Dent."
Dent waved his arms in apology. "Naturally. I’m sorry. Julianna.
Please continue."
She blinked as he entered her mind, then proceeded to answer the
question, unconscious of the expedition he was conducting into her
real thoughts and feelings. The blather wasn’t worth listening to,
but it kept her busy and gave her the comfortable illusion that she
was in control. She wasn’t, of course. He was in control now.
"And so with my finals coming up, I need to nail down a 4.0 in
Anthropology in order to even be considered for Phi Beta Kappa--"
Dent ignored the no-nonsense, confident voice recite her various
little worries and opened up her mind for his inspection. She was an
amazing young woman-- a scholarship student with a straight A average
than was hell-bent on a successful and very lucrative career in
financial management-- an investment banker, stock broker or
international merger & acquisitions expert were some of the options
she had set her sights on. It all sprang from an unhappy childhood--
some kind of sexual abuse by an uncle at an early age had forged an
utterly self-reliant young woman. Her parents were dead, no siblings.
"There is a concern that I might go summa instead of magna cum laude
and that has me concerned as Harvard B School is notoriously picky---"
He poked about some more looking for males, but there wasn’t room in
Julianna’s life for a mere male. That had to be a combination of the
uncle again and sheer drive to succeed. There was a compulsion to
succeed beyond all other needs or desires. It would manifest itself
in obvious signs of money and social position, not a relationship. He
saw faces of anxious male admirers, but nothing but mild interest in
any of them. He found she owned a vibrator and that she used on a
regular basis to relieve herself. Well, this would all change now.
"Well Juliana, well, well, well. Such a smart gal you think you are.
Why don’t you keep your mouth shut now and listen to me, you little
nitwit?" He savored the expression of shock on her face, then the
immediate need to obey his command. Then the fear that floated in her
gray eyes as his will mentally pinned her own down securely.
"Taking your GMAT soon, aren’t we? It’s," he searched then found the
answer among her thoughts, "tomorrow—right?"
Juliana Linders nodded silently, her delicate neck stiffening, then
her head bobbing puppetlike. Resistance—what a spirited filly she
was! It made it all that more enjoyable—even if it also forced him to
exert more pressure. Lately it was getting a little, not a lot,
difficult to overcome some of the patients when they resisted. It
took an extra second, no more, but it was troubling. Like his
worsening headaches.
"You’re not going to do well, dear. Not well at all. And you know
it. You’ve always known that you’re not as smart as people think you
are. You’ll be crazy with desperation by tomorrow morning. The only
thing to do will be to bring a cheat sheet with you—cheating is the
ONLY way you could do well on your GMATs, isn’t it?"
Again the stiff neck and the nod. Quicker this time. That was fine.
He’d alert the proctor anonymously that Juliana Linders would be
cheating on the test so she’d be discovered publicly. Dent regretted
not being able to watch the humiliating scene that would unfold
tomorrow about eleven o’clock—it would be delicious. And it would
explain the subsequent turn in Juliana’s life for anyone even vaguely
interested in her.
"If you don’t do well or something should happen tomorrow, you won’t
be able to attend graduate school will you?"
Glazed gray eyes dilated. "N-n-no, Doctor."
No indeed. And with the ensuing scandal, her scholarship would be
automatically be withdrawn in keeping with the school’s strict honor
code guidelines. What a shame. Columbia would be so embarrassed
because of the incident, he doubted she’d be allowed to finish up her
current semester. The word would spread, other schools informed and
her name added to a black list. In other words, there would be no
final Spring semester in Julianna’s senior year, no graduation, no
grad school and no hope of being accepted at another school. What a
tragedy.
"If things don’t work out for you, I mean if your little dreams of
being a high powered career gal didn’t work out, you’d have to do
something else, wouldn’t you?"
She had never considered anything other than a high powered career in
finance, concerned with the management of large amounts of money and
other human beings. Dent’s suggestion yawned ominously before her.
Dark spots flashed over her future now. Things wouldn’t work out…she
would have to do something else. Julianna’s subconscious mind was a
top wound up by Dent. He would continued to spin it ever faster
tomorrow afternoon.
"When I tap my desk, you’ll forget we had this discussion, Julianna.
But before then, let’s get a few things straight. Tell me, will you
pass the GMATs tomorrow?"
Her wan cheeks were drawn tight, teeth clenching. "N-no," the
realization spread over her, "I won’t pass it." There was anger, but
it was self-directed, like someone who has finally understood that she
has been her own dupe.
"And why is that?"
Eyes blinked. "I’m just not smart enough. I don’t," Dent noted with
pleasure she added this on her own, "really have any business taking
it to begin with." She raised her small hand to her forehead, as if
checking herself for a temperature. "What was I thinking?" she asked
of herself in frustration.
The Doctor nodded solemnly. "What will you do?"
Her eyes narrowed. He wasn’t in the room anymore—she was thinking
aloud. "I can write some of the basics on a small piece of paper,
maybe slip it in my sleeve and pull it out. That should give me some
of the answers anyway. The rest I’ll just have to guess—maybe just go
with a random order. I read somewhere that even a random order gives
you some percentage of right answers. Yeah, " her gray eyes were
crafty now, thin lips curled in a foxy smirk as she reasoned her way
through the impossible problem, "it might just work!"
Dent nodded doubtfully. "Give it a shot, Julianna. On your way out,
make an appointment with my secretary for tomorrow—right after your
GMATs are over." He tapped his desk, and her face cleared.
"Are we through Doctor? I have other things to get done today." Her
tone was insistent, her mind already on the day’s next chore.
He rose. "Yes—for today. Make an appointment for tomorrow and we’ll
get to the bottom of all this stress you’re dealing with—all right?"
She shrugged, unconvinced. "Yeah, fine. I’ll see you tomorrow." She
rose to leave and bent down to recover her backpack. Dent appraised
the lift of her backside, pert and boyishly rounded even underneath
her baggy khaki pants. It was so pattable, so spankable. He waited
for her to make it to the elevator, then buzzed the intercom.
"Betsy, get me the number for the Dean of Students at Columbia
University."
*************************
The redness around her eyes gave Julianna Linders a desperate, hunted
look. Despite some attempt to put herself back together, it was
obvious she had been crying fiercely before coming to see Dent.
"Long day, Ms. Linders?"
She was silent for a minute and refused to meet Dent’s gaze. Slowly
her face acquired a crimson luster the Doctor found familiar and very
appealing. The blush of shame.
"I had some p-problems today, Doctor."
Dent sat back into his chair. "Go on."
She toyed with the edging on her sweatshirt and mumbled. When Dent
insisted she repeat what she had said, Julianna raised her wretchedly.
"I was caught cheating while taking my GMATs this morning. I’ve
been…expelled. The Dean of Students wants me out by the end of the
week. I won’t even be able to graduate next semester—because the
university has put me on some kind of black list with the other
schools. Not only that, but I also have to pay back all the
scholarship money that Columbia gave me!" She sunk back into a moody
daze.
Dent suppressed a smile. "My, is that a lot of money?"
Without looking up, she nodded. "I was on a hundred percent
scholarship," she informed him bitterly. "It will take me…years to
pay it all back. And I don’t even have a degree to get a decent job
to pay it all back. What was I thinking?" She looked up at Dent
squarely. "What’s wrong with me, Doctor? I’ve never cheated on
anything in my life!"
Dent allowed himself a sneer. "I think you’re suffering from a
certain psychological syndrome. It is known as the Cinderella
Complex. It manifests itself with young women who assume that they
have natural gifts and abilities that they do not actually posses—in
your case, intelligence. In such cases, the young woman’s ambition
drives them to do things that they are otherwise incapable of doing,
for example attending college, taking difficult courses and pursuing
demanding careers. For a time, the ambition and drive carry these
young women to perform well—on the surface. However, even then, these
women are known to cheat and lie in order to succeed—though they do
this on a subconscious level, without even being aware of what they
are doing."
Julianna shook her head. "You mean this isn’t the first time I’ve
cheated?"
Dent shrugged. "You’ve probably been cheating since you were in
junior high school Julianna. If we were to test your natural
intelligence, I doubt you’d crack 110—not bad, but not college-level,
my dear."
The young woman drank this new knowledge in with a white-faced fit of
coughing. Dent rose to get her a cup of water, which she accepted
gratefully.
Dent continued relentlessly. "Like Cinderella, you finally hit the
magic deadline and your coach has turned into a pumpkin, Julianna. I
feel the pain you must be going through—but I also think this is a
healthy development. You finally realize I hope that college wasn’t a
place you should have ever been in the first place—don’t you?"
The pale, frightened woman nodded vaguely. Dent gently nudged her
conviction level over a bit and her nod took on more acceptance.
"Yes, I do now, Doctor."
"Well, perhaps we can start to look at some new opportunities for you.
Can you type Julianna?"
"Yes, Doctor," her thin, dry lips answered. The question had
relevance to her new set of life options.
"How many words a minute?"
Her gray eyes widened in surprise. "I---I don’t know. Not," she
added truthfully, "a lot I guess."
Dent shrugged. "Well I guess an executive-level secretarial job is
out, isn’t it? Those jobs require real skill, real experience. But a
drop-out who can’t type very fast?" Dent’s doubtful expression closed
that avenue. "Perhaps a junior level secretary job is possible, don’t
you think?"
He loved the way her thin dark brows bunched up in anxiety, her eyes
pleading for him to stop. "Secretary?" She forced the word out.
"Well, despite your office skills deficiencies and lack of experience,
you might make some business executive a nice little helper.
Naturally such jobs are very scarce—every high school girl in the city
is trying to get them. They certainly beat waitressing. So you’ll
have lots of competition." He paused and tightened his hold on the
expelled college girl. "Are you starting to understand just how silly
it was for you to think you could really succeed as a big-time
businesswoman—when you aren’t even cut out to make it as a junior
secretary?"
Big tears began forming in Julianna Linders’ gray eyes, her lips
puckering in a sad, angry pout. Her mind thrummed with the struggle
that raged within. He was so wr- wr-, wr-… But she couldn’t even say
it mentally, because…why? Because he was…RIGHT. A secretary.
Shuddering sighs wracked through her chest, her small breasts heaving.
"I doubt you’d be of much interest to a REAL businesswoman since you
don’t possess any marketable skills. But a businessMAN, well, that’s
different altogether. You might offer a boss certain…assets he might
find pleasing. Pleasurable. Enticing."
Pleasing. Pleasurable. Enticing. Julianna registered the adjectives
numbly.
Dent focused his attention in obvious inspection of Julianna’s body.
"You are young and enthusiastic—eager to get and keep a job
appropriate to you. Too bad you have had dreams that far exceeded
your abilities. Time for that to change, Julianna. Time for the
career gal she wants to be to become the office girl she is,
Julianna."
Instinct made her start to shake her head wildly, but a deeper pull
turned it into a tamed nod.
"Good girl. Here," he passed a business card to her, which she
accepted obediently, "I have a contact here that might be able to help
you—get you started with the next phase of your life."
Julianna brushed the tears from her eyes and took the card as ordered.
PRETTY PETS SECRETARIAL PLACEMENT-
A selection of sexy assistants for the discriminating executive
Dent picked up his phone, dialed and had a brief conversation while
Julianna sat, staring at the card mutely.
"I’ve made an appointment for you after you leave here, Julianna.
They say they might have something available, but their selection
process is rather intensive and…personal. I suggest you do as they
say," here he embedded a root command for her to do so, despite all
the unpleasantness it would entail for her, "and return here by the
end of the day."
Julianna rose shakily. Holding the card, she left the office and
hailed a cab. The address on the card was situated in a prestigious
financial district skyscraper. The doorman gave her a leer when she
asked for Pretty Pets, which was not listed on the office directory,
then a suite number and a lewd wink. A hesitant knock brought her
into a small office across the desk from a severe worldly-looking
auburn haired woman in her mid forties, a Ms. Steele.
"You’ll need to fill this out." She pushed an application across the
desk. "It is basic information our clients need in evaluating whether
or not they will take you on. Fill it out completely. I’ll be back
in a few minutes."
Julianna focused on the form.
Pretty Pets Secretarial Placement Agreement
I the undersigned agree to accept agency placement without
reservation, that my paycheck will be paid directly to the agency,
which is entitled to a fifty percent placement fee for the duration of
my employment, and that if my employment should be terminated FOR ANY
REASON by the employer I am placed with within a period of ten years
from date of start, that I shall be held responsible for making whole
my entire employment income through that ten year period, fifty
percent refund to my employer for the time of employment and fifty
percent to Pretty Pets Secretarial Placement for the entirety of the
ten years.
Please state the follow: age, height and weight; measurements: bust,
waist, hips; brassiere cup size; hair color: shade and length; color
of eyes.
State the age at which you lost your virginity
State the number of male sexual partners you have had since that time
State the number of female sexual partners you have had
Indicate number of sexual encounters you have had in the following
areas:
missionary, doggy style, fellatio, cunnilingus, anal
Indicate the sexual acts which you have to this point refused to allow
Indicate number of times you masturbate per week
Describe any sexual aids which you currently own or have utilized in
the past
Describe your most intense sexual encounter
Describe your most intense sexual fantasy
Describe the sexual act or fantasy for you which you have the most
aversion to
Describe your ten most intimate articles of lingerie
PLEASE NOTE COMPLETE DISCLOSURE IS MANDATORY. FAILURE TO ANSWER ALL
THE ABOVE QUESTIONS COMPLETELY DISQUALIFIES YOU FROM ANY EMPLOYMENT
CONSIDERATION.
YOUR ANSWERS WILL BE VERIFIED THROUGH LIE DETECTION APPARATUS!
Julianna’s eyes were filled with tears, shaking her head in disbelief.
This is the description of her that potential employers would review?
It was insane. There had to be another way. True she had cheated on
the test—why she still didn’t know. But she still had a brain and she
had more to offer that what the application seemed to imply for her.
Although she was beginning to realize she wasn’t as smart as she had
assumed she was. A lot of the assumptions she had were beginning to
fall apart. But this? Was this to be her future? No. She dropped
the pen to the desktop and began to rise.
Then she picked it up again and with tears streaming down her cheeks
began to fill out the application as completely as she was able. An
hour later Ms. Steele returned, ignoring Julianna’s ashen expression.
"Well, I see you’ve completed the application." The older woman’s
eyes flashed over the answers, a pleased curl on her lips indicating
her approval. "Very good—very…explicit. Our customers will
appreciate your forthrightness. And some of the things you’ve shared
here will make you a very, very marketable candidate. Smart of you to
be so brutally honest—as I’m sure you’re aware, there is a great deal
of competition for assistant positions." Ms. Steel snapped her
fingers. "Ready video please in room seven!" she spoke into an
intercom, then looked up at the surprised Julianna.
"We videotape the interviews for a couple of reasons. First we use
them for verification of your answers, so we’ll start with those. And
of course we want to let our customers know what the secretarial
candidates look like. Shall we begin?"
She didn’t look up at Julianna or wait for a response. If Dent had
sent her, she would do as she was told. Steele didn’t know how the
doctor discovered the desperate young women he referred to Pretty Pets
and she didn’t care. He was well-compensated for sending the traffic
her way. She and her partners were clearing $100,000 a month by
supplying pretty young things to lecherous business-types who called
them secretaries and used them like whores. It was a brilliant
vicious circle they had created at Pretty Pets—the girls the doctor
sent were on the edge and willing to do anything they were told—even
accept the absurd terms of the contract. Then Pretty Pets negotiated
the girl’s "salary"—never allowing for more than starvation levels
wages—while demanding a huge "finder’s fee" on the side, which the
girl never knew about. Because of the strict terms of the contract,
the new employer held the whiphand. He—or she-- was basically the
girl’s owner on whom the young secretary was totally dependent
financially.
Steele smiled. The "candidate" sitting in front of her today had a
body language that was too confident, too self-possessed. It was a
body language that was needful of training, begging for the whiphand
of a new boss.
She began running down the list of questions. "State your age,
height and weight, dear."
"I’m twenty, 5’ 9" and 110 lbs."
"Look up dear so the customers can get a look at you. Now your
measurements."
Julianna straightened herself, tip her head up and looked up at the
interviewer. "32-28-34."
Steele grinned. "Cup size dear. Not that I can’t guess—you’re a
little thing up top, aren’t you?"
After a moment’s blush, she responded. "I’m a B."
Steel shook her head. "You verge on an A, though. Now tell me when
you lost your virginity."
It was getting worse. But she had to answer. "Seventeen."
"State the number of male sexual partners you have had since that
time."
Julianna swallowed. "None."
Steele’s red lips curled. She was flat chested but very fresh.
"Repeat that for the video."
Julianna cleared her throat. "I, uh, haven’t had a sexual encounter
since I lost my virginity three years ago."
Interesting, thought Steele. "Are you a lesbian dear?"
The auburn-haired darling shook her head violently. "N-no! No way!"
Maybe that would change depending on the boss’es whims. "Fine, fine.
Calm down dear. Your first—and only time—it was just straight
missionary sex, yes?"
The expelled coed nodded earnestly.
"What wouldn’t you do if you were asked?" The customers always loved
this part. "Stop looking in your lap and address the video!"
Shaken, Julianna Linders jerked her head up, mouth agape. "I, well,
wouldn’t do like…anything weird."
"Specifically, Julianna. Specifically!" Steel was losing patience
with the blushing little prude.
"Like oral sex-- I wouldn’t like that."
‘You wouldn’t like to perform oral sex for a man?" Julianna nodded
vigorously. There was no point in proceeded with that line of
questioning. If the little priss was put off by giving a blow job,
everything else was probably off-limits too. Not for very much longer
though.
"Do you masturbate dear? If so, how often? And with what?"
This was the worst. She wouldn’t answer. This was wrong. She didn’t
belong here.
YOU BELONG HERE
The thought filled her brain with absolute certainty.
"I masturbate with a vibrator three times a week, Ms. Steele."
How orderly and efficient. But a new boss would have different ideas
about masturbation, about turning it from a right into a privilege.
"Describe your most intense sexual fantasy dear. Whatever you think
about while playing with yourself. Be explicit."
Explicit. No, no, no, no,
TELL HER EVERYTHING
Julianna obeyed the insistent internal voice. Her lips betrayed her
effortlessly, spilling out the sacred fantasy. "I am a princess and
my father and mother are the king and queen of the land. I imagine
myself under a waterfall bathing myself, attended by my ladies in
waiting who watch me from the banks of the fall, ready to attend me.
Then suddenly a band of brigands rides up and surrounds us. They are
a hard group of men—dangerous men—and we are just a bevy of pretty
girls. My ladies cower in fear, petrified of what they will do with
us. But I am a princess and won’t be frightened by a common pack of
thieves."
Steele couldn’t contain a chuckle, but Julianna continued, swept up by
her fantasy. "I throw a coverlet around me and demand who the leader
is. The brigands are taken aback by my courage. Then a tall,
handsome brigand captain comes before me. I bravely tell him who I am
and demand he release my ladies and I. He just laughs, then throws me
over his shoulder, taking me behind a copse. There he ravishes me.
But as he does, he realizes that he is in love with me and the rape
turns to love. Then he asks me to be his lady. And I become queen of
the bandits." Julianna looked away from the video now. Sharing the
fantasy had felt like rape.
Steele’s eyes glazed over. This repressed little bitch had some kind
of pathetic imagination. This was like a bad Harlequin romance.
Queen of the bandits? Some customer would get a kick out of that one.
They loved getting inside the head of their new office toy and the
fantasy question had been a good way of letting them in. Poor little
thing—maybe her new boss would play the fantasy out with her just for
kicks. Probably not, though. The girl’s fantasy was never terribly
important in the end—just the new master’s.
"Fine dear. You’re doing very well. Now let’s get to the sexual act
or fantasy which is a turn-off, shall we? Again, remember that our
specialist check the tapes for signs of not telling the truth—so be
detailed and honest."
DO IT. TELL HER EVERYTHING the horrible voice commanded. Cold
electricity on her tongue as she answered helplessly…
"I saw a movie one time that really bothered me. It was about a young
schoolteacher who taught in an inner city school. The leader of a
gang, a big black boy, gets a crush on her and decides he wants to,
uh, make love to her. She says no and the boy has his gang trap her
in her classroom and then he, he, rapes her." A shiver. "It was
awful because then he lets the other boys in the gang rape her too.
But that was really a turn-off. I don’t go for black guys and rape is
awful. I thought about that movie for a long time. In the end, she
kills them all though." A relieved smile then a visible question on
her forehead.
"Is there more? Go on then."
TELL HER ABOUT LORI
How did the voice know about Lori?
"When I was sixteen, my cousin Lori came to stay with us for the
summer. She was in college already and very sophisticated. She was
sort of like an older sister I guess and she was very pretty—everyone
told her she looked like Priscilla Presley. She had lots of
boyfriends calling all the time, but she never really went out with
any of them. I wondered why till one night when my parents were out,
she asked me if I wanted to share a bottle of wine with her. I wanted
to be cool so I said sure. After a while we were both pretty out of
control and laughing and all. Then she pulled me close to her and
began kissing me—like a boy would, though. I pushed her away and told
her I wasn’t interested. We never talked about it but I kept my
distance the rest of the summer. I’ve never told anyone about it
before," Juliana concluded in wonderment. It was the deepest secret of
her life and she had just shared it with this strange, hard women and
an invisible audience of potential employers. But the Voice was
pleased.
"Very candid dear. So this tryst with your cousin put you off to
girls, I take it?"
"It wasn’t a ‘tryst’! She came on to me and I’m NOT a lesbian, o.k.
lady?" Juliana breathed hotly.
Not yet, dear. Not yet. "Yes, of course. Now as I look at the last
question, I see you haven’t done a very good job filling out the
information as requested, I afraid. You were asked to describe your
ten most intimate articles of lingerie—"
"But I did!" Juliana protested. "I did! I listed—"
"You listed," Steel cut in, "as the sexiest lingerie you own, ten
pairs of matching Jockeys For Her bras and panties in different
colors. Come now—that’s not very sexy, is it?"
"One pair is black and I thought…" the coed stumbled and stopped.
"No teddies, garter belts or baby dolls you slip into to feel a bit
more…uninhibited?"
Juliana shook her head. Lingerie was something some women wasted a
lot of money on. Not her. She didn’t dress up that way—like a
slut—for anybody. Especially a men.
Steele knit her eyebrows in consternation. "Not a single thong panty
to turn a frat boy on after a wonderful date?"
No answer—just a creeping, frustration with these insane questions—and
her inability to just get up and leave.
"Not even a push-up bra for those bumps you call breasts?"
Fury coursed through her thin frame and Juliana’s hands clenched into
fists. Who did this woman think she was, commenting on her breasts
this way? True they were small but she had no right—
SHE HAS EVERY RIGHT
Her hands unclenched. The rage drained out of her immediately,
leaving only a residue of shame.
"Answer me, girl!" Ms. Steele demanded.
"N-no, I, uh, don’t have one," she answered in a small voice.
That would change, if she was a betting woman, contemplated Steele.
But with Dent’s referrals, there was no need to bet. Everything was a
sure thing. God- he had such a knack for conditioning these honnies
to accept even the most humiliating comments and acts! What a genius!
Oh well, time to finish up and get this one out in the market.
"Well, that’s the last question. We’re almost through," she promised
as she slipped the application into a manila folder.
Juliana nodded numbly. It would take all her strength to get out of
the chair, but once she did, she was fairly certain she would break a
land-speed record getting the hell out of the building. Obviously she
wasn’t in control of herself. It had been a long day. This was a
mistake and a good night’s sleep would help her clear her head. Maybe
she was delerious—
"Stand up, girl."
OBEY HER
Juliana shot up from the seat, brain throbbing with a headache.
"Video check again please. Now dear, take off your blouse."
Juliana didn’t respond at once. But the Voice was silent. That was a
good sign. She felt courage well up within her. With concentration,
she looked squarely at the older woman, smirked, then asked in a
deliberately sarcastic tone, "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
This was odd, but it was admittedly an odd business, so Steele let the
remark pass. "We have to let the customers see what the merchandise
looks like dear. If you want a placement, you’ll have to strip down
and do a bit of posing. We take the tape, splice it into what we call
the "audition" tape to potential bosses. Then based on the tape and
the application, they decide who they want to see in person. But for
the tape, imagine I’m the employer and you’re interviewing for me
personally. And I want to inspect your lingerie—to make sure you’re
pretty for me underneath your business clothes. Do a cute little
striptease for me to let me know how much you really want the job. Go
ahead—I don’t have all day, girl."
The Voice had left now—it had definitely left! She could feel the
space behind her forehead, cooler now. This was over then. The
temporary madness had passed—which meant she could say what needed to
be said. "Fuck you—girl."
Steele was hung up for a moment and Juliana loved it. "I don’t know
what I’m doing here—Dr. Dent clearly has the wrong idea of what goes
at this office. But your sick little operation is about to go out of
business, Ms. Steele. I’m going to tell the cops about this place and
I don’t think you’ll be ‘placing’ any girls any time soon!" With a
superior knowing smile, she turned to leave.
STOP
She froze, a statue except for the wash of fear that made her blink
twice.
APOLOGIZE
Mechanically her lips separated. "I’m sorry, Ms. Steele.
I…apologize."
The older woman had been surprised, but she knew there was no need to
fear now. She felt a pang of guilt that she had doubted, even for a
second, that the Doctor had let her down. She sat back, tapping the
table impatiently. "I said, take off your blouse. Then your pants.
We’ll go from there. But if I have to repeat myself--" She let the
threat hang, then held up the application. "I own your contract
honey. If I want, I’ll place you with a leather freak who’ll beat the
shit out of you every day for the rest of your life. Keep that in
mind before you consider another outburst like that!"
DO WHAT SHE TELLS YOU. DO EVERYTHING SHE TELLS YOU TO DO.
Juliana’s fingers leapt to the hem of her sweatshirt and began pulling
it up, exposing her pale pink soft-cup Hanes for Her bra. Trembling,
she kicked off her sneakers, then with a sigh, she slipped out of her
khaki pants to display her matching pale pink cotton panties. She
stood before the older businesswoman in her underwear, eyes averted
shyly.
This was better. She was girlishly built—no supermodel, but there was
a certain schoolgirl charm in her modesty, in the way she nervously
rocked on her toes clad only in her boring undies. Rough and in need
of training, but promising. Very promising. She placed an object on
the table and reveled in the expelled student’s shocked expression.
"Now imagine the boss calls you into his office. He’s had a very
stressful day and wants a little diversion. He orders you to strip
down, then kindly gives you this little gift. Go on—you know what to
do."
Julianna looked at the bright red vibrator, bit her lower lip. Tears
were rolling down her cheeks. She blinked them away and looked into
Steele’s eyes, searching for any shred of mercy. There was none to be
found. The middle-aged businesswoman waited impassively, tapping her
fingers. Cool air enveloped the near naked college girl now and she
shivered.
For a moment, time stopped and the unreality of the situation allowed
Julianna to step away from it. Everything told her that she would
soon be the office bimbo for some businessman, a boss who from the
very first day on the job would know her body intimately. Her dreams
and fantasies and fears would belong to him as much as to her. She
would be an executive perk, an office plaything, nothing more. Her
intelligence was no longer an asset. Instead of working out
international acquisitions on a six figure salary, she would be
fetching coffee for a boss making $8 an hour. Instead of indulging
herself with expensive sports cars, exotic vacations or tasteful
jewelry, she would be investing her meager dollars in lingerie and
cosmetics for her boss’es pleasure. It would be a very small space to
live in, but then she would be a very small person in the world now
anyway. Briefly she wondered about the little world she would soon
inhabit—a cheap apartment, the office where everyone would know what
her real qualifications were, the highway hotels, the space under her
boss’es desk… She knew all this, knew it would be this way from now
on. She hated it too.
She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed to the Voice. Please! Don’t do
this to me! I don’t understand what I did, but I’m sorry! Please
give me another chance! I’ll be good! I won’t cheat! I BEG YOU!
DON’T TURN ME INTO A SLUT!
The Voice answered at last. YOU ARE A SLUT. OBEY THIS WOMAN—NOWWWW!
In a trance, Julianna gingerly picked up the vibrator and turned the
dial at its base. It thrummed to life in her hands and Ms. Steele’s
dour expression brightened.
"Face the camera dear and remember—do a good job. You’re performing
for an audience of potential employers! Your new boss is watching out
there somewhere—isn’t that exciting?"
Her new boss…. Juliana licked her lips, smiled weakly and began to
lower her panties.
An hour and a half later she stood in front of Doctor Dent’s desk. He
hadn’t invited her to sit down and she was surprised to see a cassette
sitting on his desk. She could guess what it was a videotape of.
"It arrived ten minutes ago. I fast forwarded it so I could see the
highlights, but I’ll review it at more length at another time." His
eyes gleamed at her and she looked away. "From what I could see, you
have the makings of a fine little piece of office tail. I’m sure it
won’t be long till you’re offered an interesting…," he indulged
himself in a terrible pun, "position, let us say, of some kind."
Juliana looked at her doctor in incredulity. Insane thoughts twisted
like snakes inside her ravished brain. "I came in here yesterday with
a full scholarship, a 4.0 average and on the verge of entering a top
notch business school. All I asked for was a sleeping pill. Now I’ve
been expelled, no chance at even getting my undergraduate degree and
no prospects other than getting a job as a virtual prostitute in a
corporate office somewhere—and it all happened because I came to see
you!" She jabbed her finger in righteous accusation.
Dent sat back. "Oh really? How did I manage all that?"
The gray eyes lost their fire. "I…don’t know. Somehow. But I don’t
care. This is beyond me. I’ll go to the police and let them figure
it out. It may sound crazy, but I’m sure they’ll be interested in
your association with that Steele woman." She would go now, without
thinking or hesitating. If she didn’t go now she would be lost
forever.
STOP
She stood still. It was the Voice. Julianna shuddered in
anticipation of what humiliation it would command her to engage in.
The Voice but different. Of course, it was spoken aloud—not just in
her head! Dent’s Voice? Yes!
"Finally figured it out, did you? What a bright office girl you’ll
make some boss! Now, back to your simple threats. Let’s deal with
those first. Come sit on my lap."
With no choice, her body obeyed. She settled into the man’s lap with
lips pursed firmly shut. She winced as his hands gripped her small
breasts, then kneading them with an arrogant casualness. Her own
hands remained latched to her thighs.
Sensing her thoughts, he tightened his grip. "You are frustrated
because you don’t control your body, right? Get used to it. Your
body doesn’t belong to you anymore. It belongs to your superiors—the
bosses who you will serve. You will keep it fit and trim because
without your body, you have NOTHING to offer a potential employer.
Darling, it is time you came to terms with your new identity. The
mind you are so proud of is empty of any real thoughts. Nothing you
have to say is of the slightest interest to anyone. Your intellectual
life as you knew it—reading books, watching foreign films, enjoying
classical music—such subtleties are now far, far beyond you."
What was he talking about? She would stop reading books, listening to
her beloved Chopin? It couldn’t happen--
YES, IT CAN AND IT WILL—IMMEDIATELY. SHUT UP AND LISTEN CAREFULLY.
Dent continued verbally. "There was once a young woman who’s name was
Juliana Linders—you may have known her. She was bright, studious,
and ambitious—she was going to be a leader in corporate America, a
high profile specialist in international mergers and acquisitions.
Through a combination of talent, verve and style, she became very
successful and very wealthy. Eventually she settled on a husband—a
world-class surgeon. The two went on to enjoy a very comfortable
life, and Juliana was fulfilled in every way as a woman, a wife, a
professional and a lover. But Juliana Linders is gone as of this
moment. She no longer exists. In her place there is a new person.
Julee Linders."
She was crying softly and Dent allowed it—the only act of mercy he
permitted her.
"Julee is a loser—a down and out drop-out that no one cares about.
She has low self-esteem and rightly so. There isn’t a lot to her.
She isn’t very bright—she had been fooling everyone for years by
cheating till she got caught and expelled. For awhile she thought she
was really something special—reading deep books, listening to
classical music and watching foreign movies. Very superior she was
about it all.
But she no longer has the luxury of such illusions. Now she needs a
job—badly. Julee’s signed a contract that she’s obligated to meet.
She’s very excited at the prospect of becoming a secretary and earning
a little money. She knows she will never earn very much—just enough
to pay rent on a tiny apartment, buy cosmetics and cheap clothes—but
it is still better than the only other occupation she thinks she is
skilled enough to perform—streetwalking. So she’s ready and willing
to become a constantly felt-up, bent over and made to kneel office
toy—it is better than anything else she could look forward to.
Julee’s body is very important. She knows she isn’t gorgeous—and
hates her flat chest—but knows it is the only reason she gets to keep
her job. So Julee works out constantly—keeping her weight down and
using every spare minute doing aerobics. She knows she has to show
off her little bod too- so every spare dime goes into make-up, hair
spray, cheap jewelry, perfume. She’s a little clothes horse too, with
quantity more important than quality. So her clothes are brightly
colored, revealing, cheap and tight. She treats herself by buying
discount lingerie on payday.
Julee doesn’t worry about books—she reads fashion magazines. She
likes music—disco or top 40 ear candy. TV is important—a fantasy
world she can escape into. So she watches Melrose Place or nighttime
soaps like it, imagining herself as one of the characters. Sexy
movies are o.k. too, but so expensive she rarely goes to see any. Not
very deep, is she?"
Juliana shook her head truthfully. Julee Linders was an airhead—the
perfect plaything. She listened dumbly as Doctor Dent put the
finishing touches on his new creation.
"In a day or so, Julee will get a call from Ms. Steele about a special
opportunity to become a Pretty Pets girl. She will interview behind
closed doors with somebody—a black man? Maybe a closet bull-dyke.
Maybe a middle-aged married man who wants a young mistress on the
side. Who ever it is, Julee will try very hard to prove herself to
the interviewer. Getting the job will be important—failure is not
permitted. If Julee gets the job, she will perform any act she is
told to She knows full well that she will have to perform sexually
for her various employers or she will not keep her low level
secretarial job. Everyone in the office will know just what she is
and why she has been hired—to be a fucktoy for her boss of the moment.
Pleasing her superior will be Julee’s only mission in life. She will
forget she ever had any other dreams or aspirations."
He pulled on her nipples, now hard, and whispered into her ear.
"And when you are being bent over a desk and fucked Julee, only then
will you remember who you were before yesterday. And whenever you
cum, you’ll remember that you could have been so much more than just a
glorified office whore."
He pushed her off his lap. "Now get out and forget we ever met. Go
begin your new life—Julee."
The girl’s gray eyes went blank, then blinked. Julee had to go home
and wait for Ms. Steele to call. She would pray that the call would
come soon. As Dent watched her pert ass swing out the door, the panic
had already begun. She just HAD to get a Pretty Pets assignment! Had
she been convincing enough in her video? If she wasn’t so flat—
Another treatment gone well with another young woman cured of her
foolish expectations. Dent lit a cigar and called for Betsy his
personal secretary to attend him.
*****************************
"Anything?" Frantz asked his assistant as he looked over her shoulder
at the monitor.
She clicked away briskly, turned and shook her head. "Nothing."
"Keep looking," the researcher snapped and turned away. When he had
left the room, Nikki returned to the web page she had been browsing
and typed "Region: US Category: Social Services Specify: Women" into
the search box.
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