Just the Job

"You can go in, Miss Prendergast will see you now."

I stood up from the rather hard seat I'd been kept waiting on for twenty minutes as the smartly dressed young lady pronounced these words. She was, I presumed, Miss Prendergast's current personal assistant. She was called Monica according to her name badge and she looked the sort who would be an efficient personal assistant: dark suit, back hair, well made up with penetrating blue eyes.

"Yes Miss," I said, "straight through this door?"

"Of course. She's expecting you. And don't be too nervous."

"Too nervous!" The statement had a slight warning tone to it.

"Well she can be a bit hard on men. Sends them home in their underpants as often as not!"

It was an expression I hadn't heard before, but I could imagine what it meant. She liked to thoroughly humiliate men. I knew the sort, and I reckoned I knew how to handle them.

I had had a few jobs before, and you might think applying to be a PA to a female executive a strange choice, but I could type, and was computer literate, good at organising things, and could even do shorthand at a pinch. It was just the job for me. Simple, straightforward and well paid. Jobs like that weren't easy to come by. I had been looking for one for three months since being made redundant from my post as time and motion expert at Higginbottom's Paper Clips. Old Higginbottom had outsourced production to Uzbekistan and it appeared that they didn't need time and motion studies in Uzbekistan. It also appeared that my degree in Economic Geography (third class) wasn't much in demand either. So when I had received the request to attend for interview from one of the many internet sites in had signed up to I jumped at the chance,

Miss Prendergast was younger than I'd expected. Early thirties perhaps. She was also power dressed, but with blonde hair and a handsome face with well chiselled cheekbones.

"Good Morning Mr Er.. Um... Er... We'll never mind. I see you think you can be my PA."

"Yes Miss," I said.

"Well, I normally only employ girls for this job. I'm not quite sure a man would be capable... Girls are so much more efficient."

"I can type," I said.

"And that is supposed to be impressive? You'll be telling me you can read and write next."

"I have all keyboard skills...."

"How many languages do you speak?"

"Oh... Well.. English... And er... I've got GCSE French."

"What grade?"

"D," I muttered.

"What was that?"

"D, I got a D."

She shook her head, "Monica speaks French, German and Spanish fluently. I myself have competent Japanese and Mandarin, in addition to the usual European languages that is."

"Oh... I er... Could learn..."

She shook her head again, "Normally I wouldn't even consider you she said, but apparently we have to show diversity and that means I have to employ a man to do something. In this case it could be Monica's assistant. She could handle all the difficult stuff I suppose."

"Monica's assistant?"

"Well you didn't think you'd be my assistant did you? You can make coffee can't you?"

"Well..."

"Never mind. Monica can show you. I suppose you can learn to do things?"

"Of course."

"And what sort things are you willing to do?"

Well that one was easy. Easier than being asked how many languages I spoke at any rate.

"Anything of course."

"Anything?"

"Yes, provided it's legal course."

"You're not implying that I would ask you to do anything illegal are you?"

"Er... No... Of course not Miss."

It was tricky being asked questions by Miss Prendergast.

"You'd do anything legal that I asked you?"

"Er... Um... Of course..." I wasn't going to be trapped by putting in exceptions again.

"Stop ummimg and erring man. Can't you be positive.

"Yes of course Miss."

"Good."

She smiled for the first time as if she'd thought of a little joke.

"Even give me all your clothes if I asked you."

"Of course," I answered without hesitation. She wouldn't catch me hesitating again.

"Go on then."

"Go on what? Er... Miss..."

"Take your clothes off and give them to me."

"But... I... Er..."

"Come on man. We haven't got all day. Take your clothes off and give them to me."

"But I can't..."

"What do you mean you can't? Didn't you just specifically tell me you would if I asked you to? Well I'm asking you to."

"But..."

"Are you a liar? I can't employ liars you know."

"No..."

"Well I distinctly remember asking you if you would give me all your clothes, and you replying 'of course'. Were you lying?"

"No but..."

"Well in that case get your clothes off and give them to me, or get out. It's as simple as that."

I suddenly realised this was a test. I knew the Miss Prendergast type.. Miss Prendergast was the type to set difficult tasks just to test the candidate out. Once I had shown my willingness to obey her instruction she would tell me to stop. How had I been so stupid as not to have realised this? I mean it wasn't as if I would take all my clothes off even if she didn't tell me to stop. I'd maybe go as far as taking my shirt off. No further though. Still, it wouldn't come to that. I took off my shoes no socks waiting for her to tell me to stop.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Sorry..."

"Well I need staff who can do things a bit quicker than that."

"Sorry Miss," she obviously needed me to go further. I took off my shirt and vest and waited for her to tell me to stop.

"Did I tell you to stop or anything?"

"No but..."

"Well I'm waiting."

She was expecting me to take my trousers off. This was a real test, but I found that despite my original idea, once I'd gone this far I couldn't back out now. I took off my trousers and stood in front of her in my underpants.

"Good. Excellent. You seem to be the sort of person who I can trust to work for me. Now put your clothes in that filing cabinet drawer."

I'd been right. It had been a test. Embarrassing as it had been to strip down to my underpants it looked like I would really get the job. I gathered up my clothes and put them in the filing cabinet drawer and closed it.

"Excellent. Now take off your underpants and give them to me."

"But... What... I didn't think..."

"Didn't think what? That I'd really ask you to give me all of your clothes off. What sort of a person do you think I am then? One who says one thing and means another?"

"No... But..."

"No indeed! Take you underpants off and give them to me."

"Sorry I can't," I said. This was going to far. It would be just too embarrassing. "I can't. I'm too embarrassed." I could feel my face flushing red.

"Look at you man. You're as red as a beetroot. Well if you can't you can't. I don't know that I can employ anyone who gets embarrassed that easily. It looks like you've failed the test. You can go."

"Yes Miss," I pulled at the drawer of the filing cabinet to get my clothes back and it wouldn't budge. "It won't open Miss," I said.

"No, it's locked."

"But I need my clothes back Miss."

"Well you can't have them."

"But you have to give them to me. They're mine."

"No they're not."

"But..."

"No buts. I asked you to give them to me and you agreed and have given them to me. So they're mine. Goodbye."

"Bit you can't send me home in my underpants...!" Send me home in my underpants. That was what Monica had said. It hasn't just been an expression - she literally sent men home in their underpants. And now it was my turn.

"Why not?" She said, "you came hear lying about your capabilities, lying about being willing to do anything I asked, and refusing to fulfil a simple request. I think being sent home in your underpants is a suitable response myself."

I strode there blushing bright red. I couldn't walk back through Monica's office. She'd smirk at the sight, at being shown to be right. I could walk through the main office with all the girls laughing T me, or out into the foyer, into the street, home on the bus. I couldn't. There seemed only one way out.

"What if I gave you my underpants," I blurted out.

"Well the. I think you were somebody who could follow a simple instruction. Somebody who could indeed just about cope with being Monica's assistant. Somebody who could get through simple interviews. Somebody whom I could trust to get their clothes back."

It seemed like I had no option.

**********

Burning with shame I pulled my underpants down and handed them over. Miss Prendergast took them and with great precision pinned them like a trophy to the wall.

My face must have been beetroot as I stood there trembling in the middle of her office completely nude.

"Well," she said, "a little boy, and I use the word little advisably, who knows how to take orders from a woman. You might just be the assistant for Monica we've been looking for. She likes obedient men."

"Yes Miss."

At least I might end up with a job.

She turned and pressed the button on her telephone.

"Monica?"

"Yes Miss Prendergast," Monica's mild Irish accent came from the speakerphone.

"He's ready for his second interview now."

"Thank you Miss Prendergast. Send him through."

Miss Prendergast turned to me.

"You heard Monica. You can go through to her office for your second interview."

"But... But..."

"Stop dithering man. What are you going on about?"

"I've got no clothes on Miss."

"I had noticed. And quite cute you look too. A bit disappointing dimensionally shall we say, but quite cute otherwise."

The reference to my dimensions made me blush more furiously than ever. I mean I mightn't have the biggest cock in the world, but I wouldn't have said I was dimensionally challenged.

"But..."

"But what? Out with it man."

"You said I could have my clothes back if I passed the interview."

"Interviews I think I said. In the plural. If you are going to be Monica's assistant then you have to demonstrate to her that you are capable. Then you might get the job. Then you might get your clothes back."

"But if Monica doesn't think I'm capable..."

"Then you'll be sent home without your underpants. After all you did give them to me."

"But I can't go home with nothing on."

"I think you'll find you can... If you have to..." Monica's Irish lilt interrupted from the doorway. She'd come through to fetch me and she could see me in the altogether.

"But I... I... Er..."

Standing there completely in the nude with two forceful women I couldn't think how to resist. How had I ever let myself get into this situation.

"Come on," said Monica, her tone was altogether gentler than Miss Prendergast, but none the less authoritative for all that.

I walked trembling through to her office.

"Now you stand there and I'll just have a look at you. See if you're presentable."

She walked round me eying up my naked body as if sizing me up at a slave market.

"Nice arse," she pronounced at last, " and I like a man with a nice arse. And it's quite a cute little one you've got there," she pointed at my penis with what looked for all the world like an old fashioned schoolteacher's cane that she held in her hand, "get plenty of outings does he, the little man?" She pointed at my penis with the cane again.

"Outings?"

"Yes outings. There's lots of girls go for little ones like that I'm guessing?"

"Well... Er... No...," better tell the truth. I wasn't very successful with girls. Too shy by half.

"Dear dear, never mind I'm sure we can introduce you to the girls in the office. You'll get plenty of offers I'll be bound. Girls like a man with a cute behind. That's if you pass the test that is."

"Test?"

"Yes, test. To see what you know and whether you can learn. And whether you are willing to take a risk. Are you willing to take a risk. I need a man who can take risks."

"Yes, of course."

"Good. You have a degree I take it?"

"Yes of course, an honours degree," I didn't let on that it was only third class honours.

"What in may I ask."

"Economic geography."

"Economic geography is it. So you'll be knowing all there is to know about countries and the like."

"Of course."

"And how extensive is your knowledge."

"Very extensive."

"Good good, so you could answer any question I ask you."

"Yes of course," well my knowledge was pretty good even though I said so myself.

"Good, so we'll do a geography test then. See how much you know and how much you can learn. And as I said there'll be a little risk in it. Not much risk as the questions will be easy for a man with an extensive knowledge of geography."

"Risk?" What risk?"

"Well let's see. I know what," she pulled out a chair, rather like a dining room chair, "now you kneel on this and stick out that cute little behind of yours. Now I'm going to ask a geography question. A wrong answer will merit the application of this," and she swished her schoolteacher's cane, "to a certain cute little behind. A right answer and you've past the interview."

I didn't know what to do. How difficult would the question be. If it was an easy one I'd passed the interview. I wouldn't be sent home with nothing on. But if it was difficult one. Well, one stroke of the cane, even on my bare bottom, perhaps it was worth the risk.

"How difficult is the question," I burbled.

"And here was me thinking you were a man to take a risk and now it seems like you aren't. But there's the door if you want to walk out.

"But how difficult."

"Ooh, not too hard. I tell you what. You kneel on the chair. That's right. Now stick that cute little behind out. That's right. Now I'll tell you what. I'll ask the question. If you don't think you can answer it you can still walk out the door, past the girls, out into the street and home. In the nude. You never know the girls might like what they see, if they can stop laughing that is. If you think you can answer it then take the risk. What do you say?"

"All right," I stammered, after all I wasn't risking my bottom just hearing the question.

"How many countries does Spain have a land border with?"

I breathed a sigh of relief. After all that it was so easy.

"Two," I pronounced without even having to think about it, "France and Portugal!"

"Oooooooooooow!" the cane came down with such force and so suddenly that she must have been standing ready to apply it the moment the words were out my mouth.

"Dear me, an easy question like that and he couldn't even get it right," the stern tones of Miss Prendergast came from the door. She'd been watching my humiliation.

"I did get it right I did, I did..." I blubbed.

"No you didn't. You forgot about Andorra."

Andorra! Bloody Andorra! How had I forgotten about Andorra.

"Well, are you wanting to correct your answer. Or would you rather go home with a stripe across that cute little behind. But with every wrong answer the risk increases. Two more stripes on the cute little behind if you get it wrong this time."

As if I'd get it wrong now!

"Three," I said, "three."

"Oooooooooooooooooow!'

The cane came down again, with equal force and...

"Ooooooooooooooooooow!"

Down it came again.

"But I included Andorra, I said three," my bottom burning and my eyes streaming.

"But you missed out Gibraltar."

How could I have missed out Gibraltar. Now I'd been caned three times and I still hadn't passed the interview.

"Would you like another try? I don't think he would Miss Prendergast. He's blubbing. I think he's had enough. I think we'll be sending him home in his birthday suit with three stripes on his behind. Still the girls will get a good laugh."

"I'm not blubbing. It's just my eyes are watering," I stammered.

"Well, that's it is it. Are you going to have another go. Mind, your eyes will be watering like Niagara Falls more if you get it wrong again. It's three stripes this time."

I thought and thought. I went round the border of Spain systematically. Portugal, France, Andorra, Gibraltar. No there were definitely no other countries.

"Four," I said, "definitely

"Ooooooooooooooooooooow!"

I don't know if you've ever had six of the best on the bare bottom, administered by an Irish girl with a strong right arm.

"Oooooooooooooooooooooow!"

Well let me tell you this. It stings. It really does.

"I think he's enjoying it," said Miss Prendergast, "look at his little man."

Oh no! My cock was bolt upright. For some reason a bare bottom caning had made my cock go rigid. How much more embarrassing could it get!

"Better let him have the other one Monica, don't want to disappoint him."

"Ooooooooooooooooooooooow!"

And my eyes were streaming and my cock was rigid and my bottom was on fire.

"But you said, you said," I blubbed.

"I said you'd forgotten Gibraltar, I didn't say that was all you'd forgotten. You're the one that's supposed to know about geography. You should know that there are two Spanish enclaves in Morocco, so that's five borders in all.

"Five," I sobbed, "five?"

I was past caring.

"Right!" pronounced Monica, "you know what Miss Prendergast. He might not know much geography, but he's shown he can learn, he's shown he can take disciplining and he's shown he can be obedient. What's more he's got a cute little arse on him, even if it is rather red at the moment, and you know the little man's not so small when it's pointing up and we know how to get it up now. I say he's passed the test."

"I think you're right Monica," as always, "I think you can introduce him to the girls now. They'll be dying to see him."

"The girls?" I gasped.

"Yes of course," said Monica, "you'll be working with the girls. You'll have to show them what you're made of. Convince them you can fit in here."

"Does that mean I can have my clothes back now."

"Certainly not. As I said. We have to show them what you're made of!"

"Come on and meet the girls," Monica took me by the hand and led me towards the door into the outer office where the three girls who worked in the department had their desks.

"But I can't," I said wiping my eyes, "I've got nothing on..."

"Oh the girls won't mind that and I think they have a little game to play, to see if you'll fit in."

"But... But..."

"But what?"

"But it's... My... Oh dear..."

"You mean your penis is up. I don't know why you men have to be so shy about these things. We girls don't mind. In fact, knowing the game the girls want to play it might be a positive benefit. For you that is."

She led me through the door.

"Here he is girls! He's passed the tests so far, even if he needed a bit of encouragement."

She pointed out the stripes on my bottom and a big cheer went up.

"So he's shown he's a good sport and can take his punishment from a girl like a good man should. Now you need to see if he'll fit in. I'll leave him in your capable hands"

Monica returned to her room and I was left like a nude statue trying to cover my penis with my hands.

"Hi," said a bright looking girl with dark hair, "I'm Veronica. Did she get you with her new cane then. Brought that over from Ireland she did. Said she'd have you stripped and whacked before she brought you through. That's Monica for you. That's why she's in charge."

"Yes... Well... I... Er..."

"Sting a bit does it?"

"Yes."

"Tell you what, you get over my knee and I'll rub some cold cream in while I tell you what we're going to do."

She wouldn't take no for an answer and I was soon over her knee and she was massaging my bottom with cream. And not only my bottom...

"Er... You're er... Rubbing it in my er..."

"Well a bit of cream up there'll not do any harm, or round here..."

Oh heck... Where else was she going to go? There was no chance of my cock going down with her massaging there!

"Now," she said when she'd finished (and I must say my bottom felt a lot better for it) "I'll tell you what we're going to do. We're going to play f*ck, marry or dump - or at least our own version of it. You're going to stand up on the table at the end of the room and answer the girls' questions. After twenty minutes we take a vote. If the majority is marry, then you have a job, if it is dump then your sent home in the altogether with six stripes on your bum. Okay?"