The Job Fair

What exactly was she trying to prove here, anyway? Standing out in the middle of an open foyer, as one of two woman towering over a totally submissive man. The same little weak man who, upon being confronted by Carla only minutes ago, had humbled himself immediately to his knees to beg for atonement. The whole scene was ludicrous.

This was not what Karen had expected of her new job. She thought that the focus would have been more about caring for the basic needs of older and mature men. Granted, men in a care facility are notorious for grabbing out at female nurses but that was the norm for older men under female care. Yet never could she have dreamed that the reality of her new position with B.C.I. would required her to be an accomplice to the wholesale degradation of men. How absurd!

But that was beside the point, really, and she knew it. Karen didn't need anyone to tell her that the questions she asked of her self were redundant. Even as she consulted with her inner soul, the answers were already evident. None of the solace she sought, as answers for her questions, was a secret, nor was the original motivation to seek and accept this job in the first place. None of this had been obscure to her objectives. And her act of self- chastisement was nothing more than a sham. It was but a unique attempt to cater to her own guilty conscience.

All of a sudden the impact of her inner dialogue caused Karen to feel dirty and cheap. She wasn't a child and she was well aware of what had brought her to this job. Bizarre as the position was and as strange as her interview with Carla had been, Karen needed the money. That was the short and long of it. The need for money was Karen's only reality. And money was the Pulitzer Prize winning story of Karen's entire life!

In the most cutting of terms she succumbed to the thought of seeing herself now as nothing more than an unabashed economic prostitute. No better or worse, she assuaged, than so many others.

Yet these sober second thoughts regarding what she had got herself into and why, paled in comparison to something else that was much more serious. Karen realized now for the first time that she was also involved in something that was potentially much more dangerous than she cared to admit.

From the moment that the client had walked from the elevator into the foyer, she was acutely aware of the identity of the client. That wasn't good, especially in this business but more importantly, because there was every possibility that the client was aware of who she was..

Karen knew him only as Sir William. Yet that was enough. Everyone at the hospital she had worked with, knew Sir William by sight, and certainly by name. He was the Chairman of the Board for the Duncan County Memorial Hospital and Palliative Care Facility. He was the top executive, the Chief Operating Officer, and the boss of the governing board! His pen was truly mightier than any sword.

Karen suddenly became upset and unconsciously made a fist. Just thinking about that man made her angry. According to what she had read in the news and had heard from her supervisors, it had been Sir William who had convinced the legislature to tighten the financial purse strings by amalgamating hospital services. It was also Sir William's name that had been boldly scripted at the bottom of the letters of termination that were sent to the unfortunate staff who would lose their jobs as a result of his financial tinkering!

But most insulting of all, an investigative reporter with the local television station revealed that Sir William, in spite of the lay-offs that would devastate the lives of 125 staff members, had rammed through a large pay increase for himself and the other members of the Board!

The headlines had been loud and accusative about his unctuous behaviour. But Sir William was a powerful man. He was a leader in business and had earned a reputation for dealing with opponents by using the same malevolent temperament as defence lawyers can wrought upon prosecution witnesses.

Moreover, he was politically influential and not without his friends on Wall Street. It was rumoured he had deep pockets of secret money from which he could lavish upon lobbyists. All he ever wanted was to influence favourable legislation that would benefit him and those who clung to his circle.

Everyone, regardless of their social status, was familiar with Sir William's glib sense of moral responsibility. Whenever a connection was suggested between him and any wrongdoing, impropriety, or imbroglio, he simply dismissed the negative outrage with a cold aloofness. It was if he was above reproach from any and all quarter. And perhaps he was. After all, an editorial in the newspaper had once accused him of being a callous elitist. The editor had further admonished him of being born with a silver spoon, indicating in quick witted language, that the orifice that it was stuck into, might not necessarily have been his mouth! The editor was fired seven days later.

Sir William may have been all that the editor had written of him, maybe much more. However, Sir William was not the type of country squire that you'd knowingly want to cross up or vex in any way.

//

Karen was abruptly brought back from her polemic chase for her self-respect when Carla, who was literally in the client's face, had slapped him roundly about his ears.

"And did you bring your collar and your leash?" she admonished cruelly. "Are they ready for me to use?" she rattled off, with an elegant impertinence that could have easily been attributed to a high court magistrate sitting on the bench at Night Court assizes.

"Well?" she persisted, reluctant to let the client off the hook she had so neatly placed him on.

"Yes Mistress. They're in my brief case, over there," he pointed apologetically.

"Over there! What are they doing over there?" she screamed! "I want them here. They won't do me any good being over there, will they? Fetch them, dog. Bring them here to me now!" Carla barked out, her words seething with an acrimony that could have cut glass. "Retrieve your little bag to me like the dog that you are. Drag it to your Mistress in your mouth. Now go!"

So he did as he was bade, scampering on all fours across the five foot expanse of plush carpet that separated him from his new objective.

The brief case waited by the threshold of the elevator doors. The client tore into his task of retrieving it, with the impatient haste of a child trying to get the wrapping off a present. He made numerous attempts to grab the handle between his teeth but failed miserably. Finally, with great perseverance, he was able to secure it firmly within his maw.

Then with the dextrous mobility of a rather large but clumsy canine, he proudly crawled back to his Mistress. At her feet once again, the client humbly presented his Mistress with his brief case. He did so with that unmistakable glow of pride so common in submissive men who want to prove their obedient fidelity to their Masters.

"Kneel straight up, dog. Come now, stretch your neck, Fido. Present your Mistress with your meagre offerings. I am impatient to deal with you tonight."

The client struggled to lift his brief case up to Carla's waiting hands. However, to achieve this he would need to extend his upper body to its fullest. At the same time, he would need to tilt his head backwards. As the Superior Mistress in this scene, Carla had no intention of lowering her hand to help in this matter.

"Get it up," she ordered, then chuckled at the double meaning of her gaff.

But the case and its contents weighed at least 10 lbs and it would have taken extraordinary strength in the client's neck muscles to do what had been ordered of him.

"You're a little sissy dog, aren't you?" she taunted. "You're weak and effeminate. You're a little whipped poodle, all pink and frilly?"

"Nhaaag Mfffffdrss," he mumbled back incoherently.

Carla put both of her hands on her hips and looked down at the client as he struggled at her feet. "If you can't put your brief case into my hands now, then we shall cancel this evening's session and you'll be denied an audience with me for the next 30 days. Do I make myself clear?"

"Ythhthth Mfffdrss," he answered back with an increased level of urgency seeping into his tone.

With that the client summoned a supreme effort and employed his legs to push him upwards. This allowed him to rise up into a squat, aligning the case to the same level as Carla's outstretched and open hand.

Carla looked down at her little dog and patted him on the bald spot of his head, "Good boy," she praised, then relieved him of the brief case.

The handle was greasy with his saliva of course and Carla switched hands quickly, offering the fouled one to the client. Without being told, the client lavished tongue licks up and down her fingers. He also probed deep in between each one where the dirt of hands can easily hide.

Carla cracked open the locking latches which secured the lid to the main case. While she balanced the open case on her right forearm she looted the contents with her free hand. Once she located and extracted the leather collar and leash, she pitched the open case to the floor. Its contents sprayed out across the carpet upon impact. This action took the client by surprise and he became clearly distracted by Carla's action.

"Strip your clothes off!" she bawled out at him suddenly, causing the client to return his glassy eyed stare from his dishevelled brief case back to his Mistress. Once she had regained his adoration, if not his ardent attention, she screamed her demand at him again. This time, directly into the clients face. She was so close to him, hovering like a giant vulture, that Karen was positive that Carla. was going to attack him, literally.

"I'll time you" she said, spitting the words of her order directly at him. You have 35 seconds. Go!"

The client quickly sprang into action like a runner on the line after the 'gun'. In short order, he nimbly removed his suit jacket and shoes.

"10 seconds gone," Carla warned.

When he began on the more difficult aspects of his business apparel he became frantic. First, fumbling with various types of closures. Then seconds later, hopping on one leg, he tried to yank his other leg free of the trousers. Eventually, he lost his balance and toppled over onto the carpet.

As the client struggled under the gun of the clock, Carla proceeded to strut a large circle around him. She moved at a slow and calculated pace. To ensure that the client wouldn't miss her promenade, she attached the collar to the leash and dragged it behind her like a fish lure. When he recognized what she was doing, he increased his efforts noticeably. But it was a short burst of energy for an old man and he quickly petered out. However, he never lost sight of his imperious Mistress and the leash and collar she teased in front of him.

"25 seconds gone," she badgered, sending the already harried client into a renewed and energetic swirl of frenzied action.

Karen was sure that the client was aware he was steadily losing ground. Nonetheless he struggled on, oblivious to his pending failure. It was then that Karen acknowledged the power of his 'want' and his demonstrated acceptance that he'd do almost anything to get it.

In the end it was the buttons on his shirt that finally confounded his best efforts. There were simply too many of them. Exasperated and beaten, he ripped the shirt open and flung it to the floor in disgust.

"5 seconds, dog. Move it!"

The client was left with only his underwear to remove. A simple task really, one that is easily taken for granted by most men. But because the client had become sexually aroused, his enormous blood choked penis was too much to overcome. The problem was that it had become caught up in his boxer shorts. It was twisted in the folds of the front opening.

His large penis had somehow become trapped. The more he pulled on the material the tighter the grip became around his penis. He tugged and dragged at it hysterically, but without resolve. Then in a last second bid to succeed, he wedged a finger in between the two opposing pieces of cloth that were causing the stranglehold grip on his penis. With great effort he succeeded in prying them apart, making a small opening. He could finally see the finish line. He saw himself as having a tiny chance to beat the clock. With as slight smile on his face, just as he was about to wrench his huge penis free. . .

"Time's up!" Carla snapped with cold pleasure.

PART III

Very quickly, Carla refocused on the client. His penis was still enmeshed in his shorts. This didn't seem to matter to him much though, because he was too attendant on Carla and what she was planning to do to him next, to worry about it.

To Carla, time was money and she was eager to move the session along. Therefore the client did not wait long before she began on him once again.

With practiced hands she deftly encircled the collar around the client's neck, cinching it tight as if she were a cowgirl at a rodeo, hog-tying a steer. It was obvious that she was skilled at this and in short order had rendered the client 'leashed'. Satisfied that his collar was snug, she snapped the connecter of the 'lead' on to the 'D' ring at the front of the collar. Then she passed the handhold to Karen.

"You walk him. I'll make sure he trots along behind you at an acceptable pace. We're going to the Conference Room. It's at the end of the hall on the right."

Karen accepted the leash dutifully and began down the hall as she was directed. Her charge scrambled after her at an ungainly gait, his knees taking a pounding even though he was pawing his way across plush carpet.

As Karen approached the broad double doors of the conference room, they slowly yawned open towards her. They were a masterful array; two tall slabs of rich mahogany hinged in solid brass. Both doors had been polished to a high gleam and the burnished brass handles completed the intended statement of permanence.

Karen tried to peer deeper into the room as she drew closer. She wanted some idea of what lay beyond the threshold. She could see nothing more than a murky cavern. Upon crossing the threshold and entering the room beyond, Karen was more anxious than brave. She hope she was the only one who knew that.

Once inside, she succumbed to an overwhelming feeling which made her feel small and insignificant.

With due trepidation she approached the large conference table, still hand-holding the leash. Two table lamps, the type bankers are purported to use to focus on their ledgers, served as the only sources of light. Eight women were already seated around the gigantic oval table. One of them directed her to sit at the primary end, located to Karen's left. Another relieved her of the client, easing the leash from her grip and tugging the dog-slave off in another direction.

As Karen was trying to settle in, a matronly woman was ushered to her side. She was mature in her years but dressed regally in black suede.

Karen noticed that the woman's escort was much younger than any of them sitting on either side of her. The escort was aloof and noticeably hesitant to approach Karen any closer than was absolutely necessary.

Then without saying a word, the demure older woman handed Karen a leather bound folio and motioned with nod of her head, for Karen to open it.

But at that very moment a flare of high illumination interrupted the room. High intensity light flooded the entire area all at once. The inlaid ceiling fixtures burned down like Klieg lights at a World's Fair. It was a startling event and Karen and the others were forced to squint until their eyes adjusted.

A piercing laser of light singled out Carla. Everyone focused on her.

To Karen, Carla looked like a harridan. The severity of her appearance was made even worse by the uncomplimentary brilliance of light. Yet her bearing and countenance left no doubt in Karen's mind that Carla was quarrelling for a fight.

The women around the table all stood and Carla took her place at the opposite end of the table from Karen. It was only after Carla had taken her seat and adjusted herself to the table, did the others follow suit. Then unexpectedly the lights dimmed to normal room level. The assembled group were focused and quiet.

"Good evening, ladies," Carla purred, looking out at them all, assuaging the hushed formality of their meeting.

The assembled women uttered a muted response collectively.

Carla was confident and centred and even though she posed no physical threat to anyone at the table, she managed to broadcast her indomitable nature by the weight and rigid way of her stoic manner. It was her personal warning to anyone who might misjudge her and mistakenly try to get close.

"Before we begin our evening, I would like to introduce you to our newest member."

She nodded in Karen's direction and lifted her right arm and waved it up and down. "Karen, please stand so everyone can see you."

Karen stood. She was shaking but hoped that none of the others would see it.

"Karen will be in charge of vital statistics."

Karen looked around, nodding to the faces of the other women at the table.

"Thank you Karen." Carla said, indicating in a patronizing fashion that her exposure to the others was over and that it was time to get on with the reason for their gathering. Karen took the hint and sat down without looking up again for the next little while.

"The client this evening has come to us for a specialized treatment. The cost of such treatment is onerous. Yet, the client has complied.

Whisperings circulated around the table.

"He wants to be humiliated in front of us, dressed as a sissy, while being fully penis-gagged and butt- plugged." Carla read the synopsis from a crisp piece of white paper.

"He also wants to be forced to listen to the details of his last business deal and to receive physical discipline in the form of a whipping, for every error we think that he made."

And again, and almost inaudibly, the ladies around the table demonstrated their anticipation of the planned events of the evening.

"He has supplied us with a complete copy of the deal he wants discussed." Carla paused, then picked up a clip of papers held together by a staple at one corner and showed them to the other women.

"I have highlighted areas where mistakes were made by our client." Then after pausing for effect, she continued, "And I want all of you to know that there are many!" Carla held up the clip of papers again and lifted sheet after sheet showing her cohorts just where her yellow high lighted strokes appeared on almost every line.

The woman all applauded. Carla knew how to orchestrate the proper tone for an evening scene.

"Ladies," Carla interrupted with due authority, "While we have been sitting here, our client has been in the anteroom. Laura and Toni have been preparing him. I would remind you, therefore, that the moment he re-enters the Conference Room, our commitment to his fully paid invoice for our specialized services will begin in earnest. As always girls, the humiliation of this client is our first and primary objective. All else follows."

The hiss of high pressure air brought everyone's attention to the sliding doors of the ante room. The ante room was located behind Carla, just slightly off to her left.

When the fully mirrored panels whooshed open, the client and two high booted assistants were fully exhibited to the gathering. The client of course was the centre piece of these theatrics and as such was truly a sight to behold. Even though Laura and her TV friend Toni were holding him in place, the client was barely able to stand his own as he teetered on a flimsy pair of high heeled shoes.