Four Motivations

"Sir? You asked to see me?" Abby strove to hit just the right tone between nervousness and confidence. It's not often an intern was called to see the CEO after hours, and stroking his ego while still sounding professional seemed the right tack to take. Admittedly, the nervousness was the easy part.

Sebastian Mendoza turned away from the window of his corner office with a smile. He owed his height to his father, but his muscular frame to hard work, first doing manual labor as a teen, then a short stint in the military in his late teens and early twenties. In his mid-thirties, he maintained it through almost religious attendance at the gym.

"Abby! Please, come in. Oh! And close the door; lock it, too, if you wouldn't mind. The cleaning crew sometimes forgets to knock."

Abby found the request odd but acceded; her internship had technically ended at 5 PM that day, but there was no reason to irritate a man that could make or break her future. Her very recently former boss gestured for her to sit as he did the same.

His deep, smooth voice washed over her. "So, tell me: how did you enjoy your internship with us?"

"It's been a fantastic opportunity, Mr. Mendoza--"

"Seb."

"... Seb. I've learned so much, and I can't thank you enough for placing me with such a great staff."

He smiled broadly. "That's excellent. And, let me tell you: I've heard great things about you. Your work ethic, willingness to sacrifice, business acumen, and soft skills are all quite laudable." Seb opened a desk drawer and withdrew a manila folder. "I've personally written a glowing letter of recommendation, and I've made sure that HR knows to praise you to the high heavens when fielding requests for information."

"Thank you, sir!" Abby blushed at the effusive praise. She had heard that Sebastian was a fair but exacting man and hard to please. He didn't give kudos without good cause. "That's very generous. I don't know what to say. If there's anything I can do--"

Seb frowned and tapped his desk. "Actually, there is something I could use your help with."

"Sir?"

"May I ask why you didn't apply for a job here at Mendoza Consulting? I know that you've got several offers lined up at our competitors, and I'm frankly disappointed that we didn't get a chance to keep your talent in-house."

Abby's blush deepened. She hadn't expected to be put in this position; the intern rarely ended up in the spotlight, no matter how much she deserved it, instead being seen as a strong, capable team player. She attributed much of that to her appearance: short and a little heavy, conservative dress, and thick glasses. The young woman had hoped this would be one of the times she was overlooked, at least by Sebastian.

"Well, sir, I wanted to broaden my skillset. This has been such a wonderful experience, but I--"

He raised his hand. "Please stop lying to me, Ms. Weston." Abby opened her mouth, but a glare from Mendoza stifled her objection. "You and I both know that my company is the leader in this sector. Everyone I've spoken to, from your coworkers to your manager to your fellow interns said that working here was a dream of yours. So why not apply for a permanent position?"

Abby bit her lip. "I..." The answer didn't come, because the answer was unacceptable. Abby knew that. Worse, Sebastian knew it, too. She tugged at one of her red curls, a tell she'd had since she was a child, but one she'd managed to suppress at work until that moment.

Mendoza sat back in his chair. "Do you know the secret to my success, Abby? Behind the spreadsheets and databases and all of the other nonsense that we have to provide to clients so that they'll take our suggestions?"

"N- no, sir."

A pause. "I think you do. But I'll indulge you for just a little while longer. My secret is this: I understand the four pillars that drive the vast majority of people. If you know what someone wants, what they need, what they fear, and what they hate, you understand them. You understand what they'll do and why they'll do it in the vast majority of circumstances."

The young woman sitting across from the CEO shifted uncomfortably as he continued. "I do my best to make sure I understand all of my people on this level, too. It's important to be able to motivate one's employees to be their best.

"Let's take you, for example." He slid the manila folder across the desk to her. "You want the recommendations and accolades. They're the reason you studied hard, why you're at the top of your class, and what drove you to beat out thousands of other candidates for this internship.

"That's the easy one, though. What about need, hate, and fear? Those took me longer, and I wasn't absolutely sure until just now. You've done an admirable job hiding them from me, haven't you, Ms. Weston?"

"Sir, I- I don't--"

Ignoring her, he continued. "Fear was the easiest of the three. You're afraid that you'll be less than you could be. Terrified to not be a strong, independent woman. To continue to be overlooked. Or worse, to be seen for the wrong reasons. You're a beautiful woman, but you do everything you can to hide it from your coworkers--especially your superiors--for fear that you'd be accused of sleeping your way to the top."

Abby's eyes burned with anger. "Mr. Mendoza, this is highly inappropriate." She began to stand. "I am going to leave now, and if I hear another word--"

"Sit!" The single growled word stayed her motion. "Sit. Now." Two more forced her back into her chair as surely as if his large, callused hands had pushed down on her shoulders.

Sebastian smiled magnanimously. "Fear, you see? I made a statement, that you're beautiful. Another, that you hide it to avoid accusations of trading sexual favors for advancement. And your response was to bolt from your chair and threaten me. I never said you did such a thing, nor that anyone accused you of it."

She scowled at him, and he sighed. "Abby, I'm trying to do you a favor. Understanding what motivates you helps me, but it also helps you. I'm not saying that you need to change your behavior; your wish to get ahead on your merits is admirable. But your fear makes you vulnerable to manipulation.

"Let's talk about hate and need, then. I find it incredible how often they're not just related, but the same. That's definitely true for you. But in your case, all four of your motivators tangle together, pushing and pulling against one another until you end up moving in the wrong direction."

Abby almost snarled but caught herself in time. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"What?"

"A boyfriend. Besides... Devin, was that his name?"

"I... How do you know about Devin?"

"We're a business intelligence firm, Abby. We--" He chuckled. "--I know a great many things. I know that Devin is a convenience for you, not a real boyfriend. I know he's who you call when you need a date for a company party. He's who you visit when your sexual needs--"

"Hey!"

"--Become too much for you to ignore. And I know you're fond of him, but like one is fond of a puppy. He's sweet. He's affectionate. But when it comes to the term 'boyfriend,' the word 'boy' is operative."

Abby's flush had long since ceased to be a product of embarrassment and instead turned to one of rage. "That is none of your business!"

"Hate and need, Abby. I've seen you check the buttons on your shirt before you meet with me, making sure they're fastened all the way up. I've watched you smooth your skirt, ensuring that it's not showing too much leg. How your makeup accentuates your loveliness just a little less when you know you'll be working with me."

"I--"

He stood, hands planted on his desk. "The way your breath catches when I round the corner. The way you lose your train of thought. Even the time you needed to psych yourself up when you were meeting with me this evening. I make you uncomfortable, even though I've never acted with impropriety. Why is that?"

"You're- you're the CEO. You could--"

"Stop. Lying." He leaned forward. "I thought at first that you just wanted to fuck me. Needed to fuck me. But that isn't it, is it? If that were all it was, you'd put your big girl pants on and go on down the road. There are a dozen guys, younger ones, that look as good or better than me that you come into contact with every day. But that's not it."

Abby averted her gaze. He had struck too close to the truth, and every movement, every action, every expression gave her away. "Stop. Please."

"You don't need me to fuck you." He chuckled again, and she shifted in her chair once more. "Not just fuck you, at least. If it was just a fuck, you'd figure out some way to get it out of your system; have your puppy relieve the pressure, bed one of the other interns, something."

He started to move around the desk, and Abby could only sit speechless, internal voice begging, 'Please, no. Please, I can't. Don't!'

"No, it was the fact that you didn't apply here, even though it's your dream job. Your self-hatred prevented it. Your hate that, deep down, what you need is to submit to a man that's more powerful than you. Not to advance your career, not to starfuck a CEO, not even to assuage your curiosity. Because you know that it's what you were made for: to be my slave."

"No!" One shouted word from a weak voice.

"Abby."

She choked out another feeble, "No."

"Abby, look at me." The young woman shook her head, but a finger under her chin tipped her face towards his.

"Please, I don't want to--" His thumb stroked her cheek, wiping away a tear.

"No, you don't. But you need to." Abby's mouth moved without forming words. "Your career is assured. Regardless of what happens in the next few hours, you can be the successful, accomplished businesswoman you want to be. I will do everything in my power to make that happen. You deserve it."

Abby hissed, "If I fuck you."

"No. I don't work that way. You'll submit to me because it's what you need, not because of threats. I'll be discreet; no one will ever know what happens here unless you tell them. And you're not my employee right now; I have no power over you other than what you give to me."

His finger trailed down to her collar, opening the top button. "Because you will give it to me. Here and now, in this place, your fear and your hate aren't anywhere near as strong as your need." Another button opened. "Are they?"

The tears came freely now. "I can't. Shouldn't."

Seb smiled knowingly. "But you will." The battle between need, hate, and fear inside her ended.

The intern's mouth opened and closed again, but this time Sebastian's finger moved from cheek to lips. She kissed it, then took it inside her mouth, sucking at it for lack of what she truly wanted there. Her hands replaced his on her buttons, stripping her shirt far quicker than he could. The CEO took in the beautiful sight of his submissive beginning to accept who she was for the first time.

"Good girl." Abby shivered; those two words awoke in her more lust than the string of sweet boys she'd dated through high school and college ever had with their fumbling worship. She needed this man to show her what she had missed in all that wasted time. "Get my cock out." A low needful groan escaped her lips as she frantically fumbled to submit to the older man's will.

While she was occupied with that, he sat on the edge of the desk. Abby gasped when he tore her bra open, fearful and excited at his strength. She had come into this office by herself; if he had chosen, she could never have stopped him from claiming her. But then, that was still true, wasn't it? He had claimed her before he ever laid a finger on her.

"You're as beautiful as I'd hoped, Abby." She looked up briefly, the light of the setting sun reflecting off her glasses. He gently chided her, "Back to your task, slave." She closed her eyes and shuddered. 'Slave.' Everything she hated and feared and needed, all rolled up into a single word. Her body sang out with no longer suppressed desire and did as her master bade, working at buckle and button and zipper.

For his part, Sebastian toyed with the thick pink nipples that he had uncovered. Abby's breasts were magnificent, but the nipples? Those were art. He pinched one, and Abby squirmed. "These will look even better after I have them pierced, don't you think?" Not asking. Telling. 'Your body is mine.'

At last, Abby was through his outer garment and staring at his briefs. The bulge concealed therein made her mouth dry and her panties wet. Even obscured, she could tell it was far larger than any she'd ever had. She looked up for reassurance one more time; she found only displeasure at her hesitation. Abashed, she muttered, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry... M- Master." The word fought to stay inside. Until that moment, she had only acted and thought, not spoken. Speaking made it true, no matter how much she hated and feared it.

"Again."

"I'm sorry, Master." Louder. Clearer. It was true. And like any truth, repeating it made it easier to face. "I'll do better. I promise."

"I know you will, slave. Now." He patted her head and smoothed her hair. "Take my cock out."

"Yes, Master." A third time turned it from an acknowledged truth to a joyful affirmation: Sebastian was her Master. Whatever else they might be at another time or place, here he was her Master and she his slave.

It was with this newfound joy that Abby returned to her task. She eagerly pulled at the waistband of his briefs and found her reward. His cock sprang free, thick and long, its circumcised head slippery with precum and balls heavy with seed for his new slave. She gasped at the sight of him, licking dry lips in preparation for what would come next.

"Worship."

The curvy redhead didn't hesitate; she needed this, needed him, needed his cock to fill her in every way it could. Abby's tongue lavished attention on his sac first, teasing him with sensation and her with the faint taste of sweat. His musk flooded her senses, and she found her hands stroking his thighs almost of their own accord. Abby's mouth moved to the shaft next, kissing and licking--occasionally nibbling--up and down it, before reaching her goal: the fat head, plum in shape, size, and color.

Among many other qualities, Sebastian's self-control had made him the head of a burgeoning empire, but every man has his limits; Abby's lips wrapped around his cock found them. Her urgent sucking, driven by her need and his response, blew right through them. He had remained silent until then, if not immobile, but when he looked down at her chubby face greedily fellating him, he couldn't help but moan, "Abby!"

Abigail Weston closed her eyes and purred. Her Master had called her name out in rapture; what more could she want than that? Accolades, opportunities, advancement: these found themselves relegated to the furthest corners of her mind. The worship: that was what mattered.

Seb grabbed her hair by the fistful and drove his hips forward. She was unprepared for his length and found herself choking and gagging on it. He paused, giving her time to adjust. None of the boys--and her Master had been right that they were mere boys--had ever reached so deeply into her mouth. None had dared to force her to deepthroat them, if it could have even been called such, considering their dicks. But Sebastian didn't have to force her. The word echoed in her ears as her lips sunk further down his shaft: 'Worship.'

The thing that most surprised her Master wasn't her enthusiasm, or even her skill; no, it was Abby's glassy-eyed delight as his dick drove deep enough to cut off her air. He experimentally forced himself into throat, holding her by her hair, and found her more than willing to skirt the edge of unconsciousness. The needful slave's gasps when he released her sounded to his ears like music.

Sebastian repeated the experiment over and over; reproducibility is key, after all. What he found made him more certain than ever of Abby's nature and her place in his future. He could have held himself inside her until she collapsed, and the young woman would have begged for more upon awakening; of that he was certain. He released her for a moment and asked, "You like that, don't you? Not being able to breathe?"

She nodded, choking and gasping, then rasped, "Yes, Master. Very much."

He nodded, then took her by the hair again. Thai time, though, he yanked it backwards, angling her face up at him. "I'll keep that in mind." With the other hand, he stroked his cock, edging closer and closer to orgasm. "Mouth open. Eyes, too." She complied, tongue extended for her first treat of the night. "Good girl. You like being my good girl, don't you?"

"Yes, Master!" Her mascara ran in streaks down Abby's cheeks. Snot and saliva dripped from her chin. Sebastian grunted, and rope after rope of his cum joined it, raining down on her face like a blessing. Her glasses, hair, and lips all caught his spend, and she laughed, giddy both from oxygen deprivation and the newfound joy of submitting to him.

He released her hair, and she fell back into her chair. Abby continued to gasp while regaining her breath; he did the same, albeit for different reasons. "Give me your phone."

She hesitated for just the briefest moment, not even long enough for him to open his mouth, then complied. Seb pointed the phone at her glazed face, waiting in vain for the device's security to recognize her through the mess he'd created. He laughed, "Looks like I'll need your code, instead."

"3715, Master."

Nodding again, he unlocked the device; her home screen showed a neutral, boring landscape picture. A quick swipe later, Sebastian pointed the camera at her. "Smile. Like you mean, it, girl."

She did mean it; that was what made it so damning in her eyes. The small, embarrassed smile she presented first had been the fake one; the huge, devoted grin was her true self. And now, the man that had pierced her disguise documented that truth as cum dripped from her face. She loved every single aspect of that tableau save one: that his cum was on her instead of in her.

What Sebastian did next turned her love for her truth towards a love for him: he handed the phone back. "I told you before, Abby, that there would be no threats or outside compulsion. The backdrop for this picture is clearly my office. If you wanted to, you could destroy me. It doesn't matter that you're no longer in my employ. The press would have a field day, regardless of whatever spin I put on it."

"I'm giving you one last chance to turn back. If you leave, as I promised, I will do everything I can to help you; that picture and its consequences will ensure it. But if you stay, I will use and abuse you in every way I--"

Her Master didn't manage to finish his sentence. Abby's fingers flew over the touchscreen. There was a "ding" on Sebastian's phone, then Abby showed him the display as she tapped the "delete" icon. "I sent it to you, Master. It was such a beautiful picture, and I'd hate to see every copy destroyed. Now you have the only one."

He smiled and stroked her chin. "Unique, then. Like you." Her breath caught. The affection in his eyes, the praise in his voice, the gentleness in his touch all cemented the hold Sebastian had over her. Her loving gaze did the same for him. But then his visage shifted back to the firm and stern Master. "Strip."

Sebastian had destroyed her bra, and she had been scarcely more careful with her shirt; those both slid off her body easily. As she unzipped her skirt, her Master tucked his half-hard cock away and buttoned his pants once more. She watched, puzzled; had he already finished with her? If so, why have her strip? But when he moved to the other side of his desk, opened a drawer, and produced two sheafs of paper, she understood: this was just an intermission. Or perhaps he had merely been putting her through the interview process; if so, she'd clearly passed.