The Headhunter Mistress

It had started with a phone call. I was at work when my office line rang.

"This is John."

"Hey John, this is Miss Sinclaire. I was recently referred to you. I'm just calling to introduce myself."

"Oh, uhm hello."

"Full disclosure," she laughed. "I'm part of an executive search firm. I'm sure you're happy and successful and not actively looking for a change. But, I wonder.... Would you ever consider making a move for the right reasons?"

I said no.

She said coyly, "tell me you wouldn't consider making a move for the wrong reasons?"

I laughed, "actually I'm at work."

"Of course," she said. "give me a better number to reach you after work."

I hesitated for just one second... but there was something about the way she asked. But she didn't ask. She just spoke, expecting me to comply. I thought about hanging up right then, but there was something about this woman's voice on the other line. After all, I perhaps I could use a job change. This job was fine. But, what if there was another job that suited me better... I gave her my cell phone number.

"Good boy," she purred. "I'll call you after work sometime. And she hung up.

Once five o'clock hit, I was staring at my phone just waiting for it to ring. But it didn't. It didn't ring that night, and it didn't ring the following night. It was a whole week before I got a call from her office. It wasn't her, but a man from her office. He was calling to set up a time for me to meet Miss Sinclaire in her office. I was irritated that she didn't call me herself. Why was another man calling me? Why didn't she call me? It didn't take that long. I couldn't believe my anxiety. What had happened that I wanted to speak to the woman on the other end of the line so desperately. I took a breath, trying to calm myself down, and then set a time with the man.

Two days later I was in her office.

The male secretary out front told me to wait in the front area. He asked if I'd like any coffee, water? I politely declined and sat down in the waiting room. I waited for fifteen minutes. I thought about asking the secretary if Miss Sinclaire was out, wondering if I should come back. But I decided to give Miss Sinclaire a few more minutes. Perhaps she was busy. I sat in the plush leather chairs, waiting.

Fifteen minutes later Miss Sinclaire emerged from the hallway, reaching out her hand.

"Mr. Smith?" She said. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you," I said shaking her hand.

"Follow me."

She took the lead down the hallway. I tried not to notice her incredible figure, as she walked down the length of the hallway to the executive suite towards the back. She opened the door, gestured for me to sit.

She stood over me, waiting for me to sit. I sat down. She walked behind my desk, almost inspecting me, and then she sat down across from me, on the other side of a large mahogany desk.

"I'm glad you could make it," she said.

I looked up, as if caught off guard. "Yes," I said. Was I stammering? If I wasn't careful, I'd be hypnotized by her figure. Something about the way she demanded attention.

"Vice President of Operations," she said.

"That's me."

"Do you make over two hundred thousand dollars?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"I... well, I don't know."

"Perhaps that's part of the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"If you're going to rise, you have to be able to make decisions... but it doesn't seem like you can."

"I can, I do. I think I do a pretty good job of managing everything I need to do."

"Perhaps it would be better if you managed less."

"I don't understand."

"Perhaps if you could focus your efforts on just one thing, you'd be able to get more done."

" That would be great."

"Then it's settled. I have the perfect job for you."

"Really? Don't you want to know what I do."

"Not really. "

I hesitated. "What kind of job."

"You're going to be my new Executive Assistant."

"Excuse me?"

"You just said it yourself, you have far too many things to focus on. Now I'm going to give you one thing to focus on. Me."

"I'm an executive Vice President, I'm not going to quit my job to become an executive assistant."

"You don't think you would like serving me?"

The way she said it. I was getting hard. I couldn't believe it. I had to retain my focus.

"It's not that I don't like... I mean... it's not that..."

"Did I say quit your job?"

"No...." I stammered.

"No you're going to have two jobs. Your first job is to be my executive assistant, and your second job is to be the executive vice president."

"I have responsibilities..."

"What if I could promise you that you would achieve more at your current job, if you could make more money than you've every made, if you would just do what I say?"

"I don't... know."

"You can feel it. This is what you've been looking for hasn't it?"

I tried to look away from her eyes. "Uhm... I don't..."

"You've been searching for something to submit to.... To serve, haven't you?"

"I..."

And then she turned off the seductive charm. "I'm thirsty. Be a good boy and fetch me some water over there."

I instinctively got up and walked across the office and returned to her with a glass of water.

"Set it down," she said. And I did. "There... do you see how easy it was?"

I couldn't believe I just went and did it without question.

"You see how every part of you wants to give up control, and just serve?"

I wanted to argue with her. I wanted to step back into my role as the big man, as the Vice President... but something just felt so warm and comfortable around me.

She got up and walked towards me, sitting on the desk in front of me. Her nylon stockings stretched over her fantastic legs. She crossed them in front of me. I felt entranced. Like a dog just waiting for his master to drop down a treat.

"What if all I ever asked you to do was something that brought you pleasure?"

"I don't understand."

"What if, by serving me, you experienced more pleasure than you had ever experienced in your life. As if.... You became the thing you were destined to be. Like a child coming home."

"More money than I've ever made?"

"Infinitely more."

"What would you have me do?"

"All sorts of things. Things that brought me pleasure. And because they brought me pleasure, they would bring you pleasure."

"What if I told you to unzip your pants and start stroking?"

"Excuse me?"

"You don't find me attractive?"

"Yes, but..."

"Then do it," she said. "Take it out and stroke it."

For a moment I hesitated, but my hands involuntarily were reaching for my zipper. "Wait," she snapped. "Not there... do it properly. Get on your knees."

She touched the top of my head. Her touch was like getting a high. She put just the tiniest amount of pressure on my head and I slid off the chair and dropped to my knees.

"There you go, that's a good boy. Stroke it for me."

I sat there, on my knees, stroking myself, looking up at her.

"This is where you belong, you realize."

"Yes," I grunted.

"You feel good?"

Looking up at her tall legs, wishing I could see underneath her skirt, looking up at her figure from below, towering over me, how could I not feel good. "Yes!" I said, with a loud sound that surprised even myself.

"You realize that once you come, you'll stop being a man. When you come here, and offer your cum to me, you'll stop being a man. You'll just be a boy. My good boy. You understand?"

I wanted to stop. I wanted to have control. But something was slipping away from me. A warm haze took over my body and all I wanted was to keep going. To keep stroking. To keep obeying.

"Yes," I said.

"You're not a man, are you?"

"No," I grunted.

"But you're my good boy."

"Yes."

"Now cum," she said.

And instantly, as if I had no control over my body, I ejaculated onto the floor at her feet. This must be what heroin addicts feel like when they get a hit. My eyes rolled back up into my head, my vision cloudy. I felt Miss Sinclaire put her hand next to my face and whisper softly,

"You belong to me now."

The following morning I was emailed a conference number to call into and I called in at 7:30am, sharp. I was the fourth person to enter the conference line. Moments later, after there were ten or so people on the line I realized that I wasn't alone. This was a weekly conference call with all of Miss Sinclaire's Executive Assistants from around the world calling to report in, give status updates, and take orders. During the call I was given an assignment to perform that day before the next conference call. I hung up the phone with a mixture of anxiety, terror, and excitement. What had I done? What world was I entering. I could barely contain myself as I went about my day with clarity and purpose.