Mom's New Job Ch. 01

CHAPTER 1: THE EXECUTIVE SERVICES INTERVIEW

This story depicts a woman, mother of two high school senior fraternal twin sons, widowed by her suicidal husband, and hopelessly in debt because of that husband. In desperation, she eyes a new position in the Corporation, Executive Services. Despite not being able to find out what the position entails, she hopes her background in sales and project management for the Corporation gets her an interview.

The interview changes not only her life but that of her sons, as well.

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A new position, Executive Services, is rumored to be open but seems to be a position nobody knows anything about. Even who the position might report to is a mystery. It is rumored to be a position with a better salary and benefits requiring very particular skill but exactly what those skill would be are unknown. How could an open position be so unknown. It was for that reason that I disregarded it as one of those corporate rumors that are floated without substance.

I would love better pay. No, that's not really right. I NEED, desperately need, better pay. My name is Mary Freeman, 37 year old, widowed (suicidal husband to top it off), mother to fraternal twins in the last semester of high school, and deeply (read DEEPLY) in debt by the scheming and crazy ventures of said suicidal husband. I need the better pay for any chance to get out from under this smothering debt. The worst part of the debt is that it could mean I won't have the ability to support the twins going to college. They both starred in football and wrestling but starring at our small high school and qualifying for college scholarship are very different things.

I requested a transfer from my sales job to project management so I could be home more for my sons. That was three years ago when ... yeah, well ... The pay cut didn't do much for paying off the debt in a timely manner but the boys needed at least one parent. I like the company, I like the way it is managed, and the products are truly good.

I didn't want to leave the company. Now, with the boys in the latter part of high school, I thought maybe but even sales was now a deadend. When I found a profile/personality/strength study in my work email, I was confused. That was the kind of thing you might expect if you were considered for a move into a new area of the company. The sender email was vague but seemed to be from within. I was swamped with projects at time, exhausted, and stressed but the email said it was time sensitive and required immediate attention. So, I stayed late and completed it. I heard nothing. No followup.

Then, two weeks later, I received another. The email was a different sender but still appeared legit. This one requested me to complete it when convenient but within the next week. I put it off until a quiet moment caught up with me. Then, nothing. Again. I didn't know what was happening but finally decided they had been sent to the wrong person.

A meeting schedule appeared in my inbox. The subject line was, Executive Services. The meeting was with Human Resources. It does exist. My hopes skyrocketed. The meeting several days later, though, was pointless. It lasted 45 minutes and the director asked a lot of questions, but in the end, out of frustration, I asked very pointedly, "How can you not know anything about the position?" The only thing he could offer, and it was given in desperation to say something, was that it was a position for Mr. Bartels. The CEO?

I pondered that for several days. Mr. Bartels. The CEO. His position. His office was in the 'Inner Sanctum' as it was referred to. The six most senior officers of the corporation were located in offices on the top floor of THE office tower in the city. It was said that they, those six officers, ran the corporation with input from other locations but rarely in person. It was said that office was run in a zen-type environment, that there were no assistants or secretaries or associates. Anytime there are mysteries, however, there are bound to be more silly rumors and conspiracy theories than actual knowledge. What could possibly attracted his attention to me? And, how many others were being considered? HR didn't have the answer to that, either. To further my disbelief, I received another email meeting schedule, this one with Mr. Bartels. He doesn't have someone to do interviewing for him?

* * * *

I parked in the garage under the office tower, located the bank of elevators and was surprised to see that the furthest up it went was the ground floor of the building. Exiting the elevator, I found myself in an expansive lobby with a ceiling three floors up. I saw the security desk. The instructions in the email were clear that access to the office was only possible through security.

After signing in and checking with someone up stairs, the security guy walked me to a different elevator and used an access code for me to go directly to the top floor. When the doors opened, I entered a small foyer with a heavy wood door opposite. It was the only door visible. The door read, EMMON CORPORATION. I tried the handle. It was locked. I then noticed a button on the wall next to the door. I pressed it. In a moment, the door opened. I had seen Mr. Bartels in the Annual Report and various promotional brochures but in person?

I was almost too stunned to react. Luckily he wasn't. "Ms. Freeman," Mr. Arthur Bartels said while offering his hand and guiding me into the large office space. He was 5' 11" and impressively trim and moved easily. I knew from literature that he was 51 years old, divorced many years ago. His hair was brown, cut short, with graying beginning on the sides. I had been trained in sales to note everything.

The space inside was oddly arranged. Three offices on each side that I had to assume were excessively large. At the far end was a very large conference room with glass walls inside and on the outer wall. The center of the room had a work station lavished furnished with low walls. Beyond it was an interesting arrangement of chairs within a two step sunken area and positioned in a circular formation with side tables and coffee tables arranged among them. They somehow managed subdued lighting in the area. It had the feel of a club setting more than a conference area.

He led me to an office on a corner, which did seem fitting, without any offered explanation regarding the office layout that might satisfy an expected curiosity. Apparently, if I needed to know, I would be told,

His office was ... beyond excessively large. I assumed the other offices were merely excessively large. This one had glass floor-to-ceiling walls on the two outsides walls. The massive shiny wood curved desk and furnishings were against one windowed wall. We passed a conference table seating 4 to 6 easily. At the other end was another seating area furnished in the same style as outside and, again, subdued lighting. There was also another man sitting in front of the desk. I recognized him, too.

He rose as we approached. Mr. Bartels introduced us, though his face was familiar to me from the same annual reports. Mr. David Tillotson was the Chairman of the Board. He was 57 years old, about 5' 10" tall, a bit too heavy, and gray short hair. His presence was a surprise but everything about this had been surprising.

It became clear that Mr. Tillotson's participation in the interview was as a silent witness of sorts. Mr. Bartels began an elaborate explanation, finally, about the office and the position of Executive Services. It had been years since they had assistants or anyone else on the floor. The six senior officers found their concentration and efforts were more effective in their isolated existence. Hence, the large, mostly empty space between the office. Then, the idea of their own private men's club was added with the six chairs, the sunken floor, subdued lighting, and hidden bar. The one thing their 'club' was missing from others was a hostess. He quickly added that 'hostess' was not what was intended by the position but would be included.

He covered quickly the hours I would be available, etc. His questions and probing, though, were hitting the mark with astonishing frequency. It was clear he knew a lot about me, somehow including my husband, taking a reduced position for the family, and the boys. It was weird that each question or probe elicited a 'yes, sir' from me. He was clearly in control of his life and the corporation and that control came through in the interview. Many questions or inquiries came across as fact even if he did ask a question. And, my responses were more and more, 'yes, sir'.

Then, after much time, the interview changed. He asked pointed question about my debt level left to me by my husband. He asked about life after my husband, plans for the boys now that they were reaching the end of high school. We talked about it.

"That's why you've been posting for positions with a better salary, isn't it? For instance, you even tried to get back into sales where you came from."

"Yes, sir," I timidly replied. "My struggles haven't been a secret, sir."

"You came to my attention, Mary ... may I call you Mary?" I nodded. "One thing about me, Mary, is that I want to hear responses, no nodding."

"Sorry, sir. Yes, you can call me Mary."

"You are a beautiful woman, Mary." And, he stopped. "Perhaps this is a good time to explain the presence of David. I am going to ask some very pointed and personal questions that I feel are important. You see, Mary, for anyone to work on this floor, confidentiality and trust has to be paramount."

"Yes, sir. I understand. I hope my performance history here at the corporation is evidence of that."

"It is, true. But, my questions ... they aren't meant to embarrass or intimidate you but they need to be asked. I will give you the option to quit and leave at any time and the interview will be over. David is here to witness if or not you have an objection. Regardless, however, everything that follows must remain here and never be divulged to anyone outside these office."

I glanced at Mr. Tillotson. He just carefully watched me. I nodded, then remembered. "Yes, sir. I understand and accept." Mr. Tillotson smiled.

"To proceed, then. I had an algorithm written to scour files and profiles of everyone employed by the corporation. I might be interested in someone for another location or someone deserving of a promotion to advance a product or team. In this case, after we discussed the idea of bringing someone back into this office, I was looking for someone very special. Your profile caught my eye. You were a star in sales but left for family reasons. I understand. No, sorry, that would be condescending. I was married once but never had children so your sacrifice is something I can only imagine ... and applaud. Then, in project management, you again excelled. But, I take pride in the fact that we have lots of employees who excel. No, that wasn't what caught my eye. You, Mary, intrigued me. Your profile survey identifying personality traits and career fits held some nuggets of conflict. That was intriguing."

I almost gasped out loud. I had fought so long against it. Could it somehow been identified but not considered all this time? What did his curiosity lead him to discover? How much did he discover? I tried to recover but I feared he caught my reaction ... or ... had Mr. Tillotson? "I'm sorry, sir ... what ..."

He smiled. "You recently responded to another request for a similar survey. That came from a psychologist I know after I asked him to review your original one. He agreed. There was something conflicting in the responses. His two followups were to test you under stress and when you had free time to respond. Do you remember those?"

"Yes, sir, I do. They seemed... like odd requests but... they were from inside the company." I was struggling. So, they were odd requests and where did the results lead him?

"I am going to be honest with you, Mary, because what I am intending for this position has changed greatly since learning about you. My psychologist friend confirmed your personality ... true personality nature that I suspected. I suspected you had significant compliance tendencies. My friend said he would classify your true nature far more than 'tendencies'. He thinks you are a true submissive, Mary." He fixed his gaze on me and waited. He was strong. He had experience, I knew it. A war of wills flared up within me. I suppressed it ... again. I was so tired of it. I was sure he was reading my struggle and he took pity on me.

"I am sorry, Mary, but I had to know for sure before I attempted this action. I do believe you are the one I want. I hired a private investigation firm. I know, that is an invasion of your privacy and for that I do apologize. But, I can help you now." I looked at him with new energy. Help? Even the war within me took a momentary truce. "I learned so much, Mary. Do you want to know what I learned?"

"I ... I don't know ..." I stammered.

"I'll be brief then," he responded, clearly intent on proving what point he had to make. "You seemed to excel in school and sports with a recurring comment from teachers and coaches that you followed directions and instruction consistently and perfectly. Coming out of high school, you met a slightly old man. Your parents objected because he seemed to have too much control over you. The man also had two infant fraternal twin sons." I knew the shock of his discovery showed on my face. He didn't stop. "You struggled with the boys, additional schooling, and work. You met another man, but didn't marry, and you were able to complete your degree but he left, too. Some reports said he couldn't deal with your inability to share in making decisions. You got your first job here, met your husband, and the rest is what we already know."

The war within me had flared into a nuclear apocalypse. I had to fight to maintain focus. Neither side of the conflict gave any reason for hope. Leave now and pretend it didn't happen! You're hopeless and you'll never be truly at peace! But ... there was a calm, neutral force trying to be heard. Wait, Mary, just a bit longer.

Mr. Bartels was speaking, again. "That's not quite all of the story, though, is it?" What? Wasn't that enough to discover? What more could he know? "There was always the same reason for why you were going from man to man to man." He put that together, too? "It wasn't just the man to man, though. There was the single female membership in that swinger club." Oh, no! "That must have been hard to manage with the boys."

"I ... how could you find ... Oh God ..." What do I do now? Why? That calm voice. Was I truly going crazy this time? But, it was so calm and insistent, 'Be honest, Mary, just this once, trust and don't over-think.' I looked him in the eyes but it wasn't with the pretend confidence and authority I had trained myself to project. This look was letting him know I was ready to stop pretending. "Sir ... I ... the boys are all I ever had. The men were always a crutch, a desperate hope at finding resolution. I gave up on ... that part ... for the boys."

"I said earlier that I could help you. Should we stop and none of this will ever be known? Or, do we continue and I show you how you can be at peace with yourself and your boys?"

I stared at him for a moment and I didn't need to hear any voices within me. A feeling of calm was already washing over me. I turned my gaze from Mr. Bartels to Mr. Tillotson who had been silent the entire time. I nodded to him while verbalizing, "I am ready to continue."

I turned back to Mr. Bartels. "I am ready, sir."

"Excellent," he said with enthusiasm. "I have a dominant history, Mary. It goes back a long way but it was with my only wife that I realized the potential for it being an issue. My only wife couldn't bear under my attempts for dominance in the relationship and my desire for her to be compliant. My mother had been compliant to my father and, to me, it seemed natural in the relationship of male and female. That was wrong, of course. She was a good woman and my nature drove her away. It was that experience that focused me in my relationships with others. As a result, understanding my nature would tend to continue, my subsequent relationships became an indulgence with willingly compliant casual partners. I never wanted to hurt or mislead anyone. I was who I was. Controlling that natural part of me was like ... well ... like you trying to control your natural part of you. It can be done but isn't comfortable. You can imagine the struggle I was always in with traditional office staffing. When I finally took on this position, I saw my opportunity to create a safe environment. That was the reason behind the elimination of the use of executive assistants in this office."

He gazed at me and I returned the gaze, though less boldly. Was that how he identified me in all that data? Was it that he knew what his opposite would be?

"Do you see, Mary? When I found you, I changed everything I had considered for the position."

"Sir ... may I comment on a point?" I inquired respectfully.

"Of course. A relationship like this must be fully and openly honest. How can there be trust and understanding without it?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you. It seems to me that you didn't changed everything about the position but rather inserted a lot more than originally envisioned."

He smiled, then chuckled. "See what I mean, David? Is she not perfect? A sexual submissive and smart."

For the first time, Mr. Tillotson spoke, "I learned long ago, Arthur, not to doubt you."

"Are we still moving forward, Mary?" Yes, sir. "Good. Do you see that we are a match of opposites? A dominant like me is lost without a submissive. A submissive like you is lost without a dominant. We belong together, Mary."

"I understand, sir. You are saying that you are my option for fulfillment and I am your option for fulfillment. Meaning that together we both can attain our natural balance?"

"I couldn't have stated it better, dear," he said. "Mary, do you mind if I call you 'dear'?"

I blushed and I knew it. This was coming on so fast and I knew where it would go. He was releasing me and I was eager for it. "No, sir."

"Are you ready for us to stop talking in generalities and become very specific? Are you ready to trust that I will take care of you and are you ready to accept what I want from you with that trust? I used the term 'sexual submissive' moments ago and that didn't bother you."

"I am ready, sir. I know what you intend, sir."

He smiled and nodded. "Stand up, Mary." I quickly did. "You stated your readiness and expressed in clear terms what our relationship can mean for us. You expressed your trust in me without truly knowing me."

"I don't know if it can be verbalized, sir. You, the you that is you, managed to release me, the natural me. That has to be something. I have this calm, peace about me suddenly. And, the fact that you removed women from your surroundings rather than having the potential of causing them harm or emotional abuse. That tells my a lot, sir."

He smiled widely. "Insightful. You will be an interesting submissive, Mary." I smiled with another blush. How long has it been that mere kind and flattering words gave me such a reaction? "Remove the jacket and blouse."

I sucked in a breath but my jacket was already slipping from my shoulders to slide down my arms. This was real. This was really happening. A shiver coursed through me. Did he see that? Would he know? My fingers were busy undoing the button down my blouse. I pulled the tails from my skirt and finished. I was about to slide the blouse off when his words stopped me.

"Oh, no. Not that you knew but I will have rules and one is that you will not ever wear a bra when you are with me. I like breasts free to bounce and sway and yours, mature breasts, will likely be wonderful."

Mature breasts. Well, I am 37, I reminded myself. "Yes, sir." I removed the blouse and immediately reach behind to unfasten the three hooks of my offending bra without his additional instruction. I saw his smile at my immediate action. And, again, a warm feeling washed over me. With my bra on top of my blouse and jacket on the third chair in front of his desk, he gazed at me for several moments as I stood in front of him.

"Beautiful," he said. "I love your breasts. Indulge me, please, and walk to the other end of the office and back." I started immediately, passing in front of Mr. Tillotson who then got a very close view himself. I knew, of course. As I walked back toward him, he had a very pleased look on his face. I glanced down. Yes, a little mature sag to my C-cup breasts and they did bounce and sway on my chest. "Beautiful, dear. Now, the skirt." I reached behind, release the tiny hook, and lowered the zipper. I was pushing the skirt over my hips when his voice stopped me, again. "Rules 2 and 3: never wear pantie hose, I like stockings, so thigh-high or garter belts; and, no panties when you are with me or even might be with me. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. Perfectly." I finished pushing the skirt down and knew I couldn't delay. I had to remove the offending garments just like the bra. I pushed the pantie hose down my thighs, sat to removed them and stepped back into my 3 inch heels. My panties. I pushed them down and off.

"Excellent, Mary. I love a bare pussy. Do you shave or use cream?" he asked as if it were an innocent question,

"Ummm ... cream, sir. I think it is smoother."

"Smoother ... huh. Turn to David. David, what do you think?"

Mr. Tillotson didn't hesitate. He reached out and stroked over my mound. My legs opened before I thought to do it. His hand went between my legs and stroked my pussy.

"Very smooth indeed, Arthur. And she is very wet. It would seem your submissive is excited to be yours," he said while holding my eyes.

When his hand left my pussy after a minute of testing the smoothness, I turned back to Mr. Bartels.

"I will tell you explicitly what will be expected of you in this position and you can tell me if you are still interested." Yes, sir. "First, the office requirements could be almost anything any assistant might be asked to do: proof reading and editing letters, critical emails; editing presentations; travel alterations; conference call arrangements. You get the idea. Second, you will have 6 officers who will want to fuck you or have you suck their cocks but it is rare for all six to be in the office at the same time. Third, you will hostess the club activities but most of the guys have wives to get home to so it is generally only a few hours. Fourth, to alleviate any concern you might have, you will be my submissive and only my submissive. Any outside the office activities will be through me and only with your acceptance." He stared at me. "Any questions or concerns?" No, sir. "Are we still moving forward?"

"Oh, yes, sir!" I exclaimed. "Sir, what's next?" Next? "Yes, sir. I assumed there is more to the interview."

He rose from his chair and moved around the desk. As he did, he nodded to Mr. Tillotson. Both men were loosening their belts and opening their slacks. Mr. Bartels sat in the chair I had used, both men with open slacks to their knees and cocks exposed. I knelt before Mr. Bartels and took his cock in my hand. It was growing very fast and I wondered how long it might have been for him but certainly not as long as for me. I reached to the side and took Mr. Tillotson's in my other hand. I leaned forward and began licking and sucking Mr. Bartels' cock while stroking Mr. Tillotson's. I switched back and forth and they were soon quite hard. Mr. Bartels had a nice 8 inch hard cock. Mr. Tillotson was 7 inches. They both would feel wonderful compared to the dido I had available to me.

I looked to Mr. Bartels. "Will you fuck me, Sir? I will be your submissive. I will be anything you wish me to be. You will use me and have anyone else you wish use me. Will you fuck me now, Sir?" Something shifted in me. It had felt like he was exploring my submissiveness and willingness and I was doing so along with him. In this moment, though, my expression of desperate need wasn't just to be finally fucked but to taken and accepted by him. I had found the man who would dominate me and who I somehow knew I would trust. He shifted from a respectful 'sir' to a 'Sir' I needed to submit fully to.

"Dear, Mary. Yes, I will fuck you now. I will fuck you as the submissive you truly are." And, so it was, our understanding, our acceptance of each other as dominant and submissive.

He rose and I rose with him. He turned me to the desk and pressed my shoulders so I was bent over the desk. I supported myself with my arms and separated my feet. I was ready. But more than being ready, I needed this. I needed him to take me, to fuck me, and to use me. I wanted him. I wanted to be his.

I felt his cock touch my hungry pussy. It spread the lips and I moaned. But he stopped. His cock just barely inside my lips and he stopped.

"Please, Sir. If I can be so bold, Sir, please don't tease me. I need you inside me. I need you to fuck me, to use me, to claim me. Please, Sir."

Not a word from him. His cock thrust powerfully and deeply into my wet and ready pussy. I moaned deeply. "Oh ... fuck ... yessss ..." I exclaimed. He thrust hard and deep, over and over. "Yes ... yes, Sir ... like that ... use me!"

He fucked his cock into me with increasing power and energy and speed. I grunted and groaned and moaned and exclaimed my need. I orgasmed powerfully. I wailed my orgasm. He continued fucking me over and over and over. I thought I would orgasm again before he came but just before my second crashed over me, I felt his cock pulse and swell and his cum flood into me. My orgasm washed over his cock and mixed our cum, my pussy spasming around his pulsing cock.

I sagged onto the desk and moaned my frustration at feeling his cock pulled from my clenching pussy. But, I wasn't done. Another cock was pressed against my pussy. Mr. Tillotson. In the wonder of being fucked I had forgotten about Mr. Tillotson. His cock slid into my used pussy. He pressed it to full depth in the first thrust. I orgasmed again just before his cum added to the mix.

I collapsed onto the desktop, my breath coming hard. I was in a wonderful place when I heard Mr. Tillotson.

"I think ... you have a wonderful ... slut, Arthur," came through his gasping effort.

"Yes, I agree. She will be an exquisite submissive." A short pause allowing me to digest being called slut. "Speaking of exquisite, is there anything quite like seeing cum leaking from a gaping pussy?"

I pushed myself up and turned to face them. "Is there ... anything else I ... can do at the ... moment, Sir?" I gasped while still recovering and hearing the blatant sexual references regarding me.

He smiled. "Yes. Get us a drink. The center cabinet. David prefers scotch and I prefer bourbon. Neat. No ice." I started to move when he added, "Not you, dear. Your mouth will be busy getting us hard, again."

I giggled as I walked to the other end of the office. He wants more fucking. You are the submissive he desires and needs. As I returned with the drinks, the men had angled the chairs toward each other and I could immediately see it would be easier for me to move back and forth between the two men. They were both watching me with smiles and I remembered Mr. Bartels earlier comment about liking breasts free to bounce and sway. I didn't need to look down, I could feel them. I felt self-conscious and wondered how long it would take for me to feel less so when these men so obviously watched me.

After delivering the drinks, I knelt in front of Mr. Bartels, took his deflated cock in my hand, and took the head between my lips. I lightly sucked on the head and used my tongue to swirl around it at the same time. I was amused by how much I had learned and experienced back in my younger years came rushing back to me. It had been years since sex was a part of my life and now it seemed I couldn't have enough.

I switched to Mr. Tillotson once I had succeeded in having a firm cock in my mouth. Mr. Bartels used his free hand to stroke his cock as I moved away from him. I applied the same effort to the next cock and, when it too was hard, I looked back to Mr. Bartels. I reached over and took his cock from him, stroking both hard cocks.

"Sir," my renewed excitement coming through in my voice, "you said you weren't done with me. How would you like to use me next?"

He rose from the chair he had been sitting in and pointed at it. "Kneel and bend over the back," he directed. I moved immediately to comply. It might have been shocking to think how easily I had fallen into submission to this man but I wasn't thinking. I was just doing.

"David," Mr. Bartels continued, "in the interest of time, would you like to fucker her or be sucked to climax?"

Spit roast. My feelings were immaterial. Mr. Tillotson was given the choice and I was there for their use. My God, I thought, this is exciting. Releasing control and merely accepting what they wanted.

"As much as I like her cunt," he replied, "I think her mouth this time. It's not like I will be able to choose which I want any day of the work week." They both chuckled as they took their positions. And, it hit me how true the statement was. Not the part of Mr. Tillotson not being able to but the reality that Mr. Bartels would have the choice of my body whenever he wished.

They fucked me aggressively from both ends. Sometime in being fucked and my body lost in rising arousal, Mr. Tillotson's cock slipped into my relaxed throat and deepthroating came rushing back to me from my swinging events. My orgasm started a chain reaction and cum filled both my pussy (for the third time) and my mouth and throat.

When the cocks left me, the one in my mouth almost immediately, I sagged like a cloth doll in the chair for several moments before I could pull myself together. What was next?