Seven Days of Service

Seven Days of Service - Day One

Seven Days of Service – Day One

         Sales were down drastically for the division this year, and there seemed to be little that could be done about it. My department had been scratching over depleted accounts for nearly six months; this did not bode well now that the owner’s son Wade was the division head. Citing his wonderful academic career—just graduated from college—he was chock full of new ideas to spur us on to sales nirvana.

         Most of his ideas were simply irritants to the managers working for him, as many of us had tried variations of them in the past with little to no result. His latest was particularly irritating, simply because it forced interdepartmental rivalry, where previously we’d had our greatest success working together as a team. One of the managers however, had voiced overwhelming approval of the idea, simply because she had experienced a recent run of fairly good luck in landing a couple of modest accounts.

         My name is Scott Bentley, a divorced 36 year old sales manager, the late “fair haired boy” of the division. It seemed that my reign as top salesman in the company had taken a bit of a dip lately, as had all of our staff’s efforts. The only department that had managed to maintain a relatively even keel during this economic downturn belonged to Cathy Stretch, a young tigress from the “new school” of marketing. She was probably around 30 years old, 5’6” tall, and obviously spent some time keeping her figure in shape. Dark brown shoulder-length hair and piercing dark-brown eyes rounded out her physical aspects. She had an almost feral aspect about her that intimidated her workmates, and a supremely cocky attitude towards her peers.

         There were rumors about how she managed to find these client scraps over the past few months, but I doubted those suspicions, simply because of her observed behavior in and out of the office. She had managed to rebuff any and all advances towards her both in the office and in the field. For all intents and purposes, she appeared to be untouchable. We had no idea, after three years on the job, whether she had a boyfriend, acquaintance, girlfriend, or any type of real social life. Hell, she could be taking care of a sick little old grandmother as far as we knew. Other than being a fan of her luscious rack, and wonderfully symmetrical ass, I could really care less.

         Mostly though, she just pissed all of us off. Any small victory from her department was followed by scathing sarcasm from her directed at the rest of us, questioning our intelligence, our skills, and even our manhood. Yeah, that’s right… She was the only female manager in the division, and a supreme pain in the ass. After several months of taking the “Cathy whippings,” the latest challenge by the new director seemed to be the last straw. It appeared to be biased in her favor, since her department was the only one in the past six months to maintain an income level that hadn’t dipped beneath the quota set up for each department for the year.

         Which brings me to the latest brain-child of our beloved new director: urging the four departments to surpass each other’s meager sales records for the past six months. He proposed a new competition between the management staffs to exceed or match quotas for the following month. This time, he proposed, the two top sellers and the two bottom sellers would compete for one month, the winning manager of each pair getting the services of the losing manager for a week. Sounded simple enough in principle, but I was tired of all this bullshit gaming, and wanted to concentrate on nurturing the client relationships that had sustained us through the toughest times in this recession.

         As the details of this latest challenge became clear, I became more and more determined to resist the direction all this dog-eat-dog competition was taking, but my challenger wouldn’t let it rest. Cathy’s department was number one, mine was number two, and we’d been paired as opponents for this little competition. Referring to me as “Mr. Has-been,” she delighted in rubbing her small successes in my face, and letting everyone know that I might be a suitable replacement for her housemaid for the week when she wins. Quite frankly, I was getting pretty fed up with her shit by now, and was making sure that she and I had lots of space between us until this crap was over.

         As we moved into the contest month, my first week passed without a single prospect, and I was getting a little distracted with the details of the deal. I should’ve paid more attention I guess, because there were virtually no limits to the extent of the services demanded of the losing manager, aside from legal limits. It was intended to inflict the most humiliation possible on the losing manager in order to induce the competitors to take exceptional steps to avoid being beaten. This certainly didn’t endear the little bastard to me a bit, but he certainly picked the one thing that would get the most fight out’ta me. I’d be damn near willing to dip my balls in a deep fat fryer before I’d allow that little bitch to boss me around for a week.

         By now, even my sales staff began referring to me as Cathy’s “little bitch,” until I reminded them that if they let me down, roasting in hell would be preferable to coming to work with me in the future. They knew I was deadly serious, and if they still mocked me and my predicament, they did it where I couldn’t hear them. On the other hand, Cathy took pains to “drop in” from time to time, simply to aggravate me if I was in the office, or to tease whomever of my sales staff that got into her sights. One bright side to that was her smart-ass harassment kept me out of the office and in circulation within client circles.

         Week two slipped by, and while my department was sucking wind as far as prospects were concerned, word was hammered into my skull by a visit from Cathy that her department had landed a small account that Friday. She also mentioned that she was already making up a list of humiliating little tasks for me to perform for her when she collected her prize. Did I ever mention that I was beginning to despise that woman?

         I noted with some relief that my staff was spending less time in the office and more time on the road. This gave me some hope that I might redeem myself to some degree whenever the contest finally came to an end. You see, “face” is everything with salespeople. We live by it; we die by it. Call it pride, hubris or whatever, you shame a salesperson and you’ve ripped their heart out. No matter what crap fate and circumstances sent your way, you never, ever let anyone see you sweat! So, even if I lost this ridiculous contest, I’d do what I had to, head held high, and dignity intact, dammit!

         Finally I began doing something I hadn’t done in years. I began visiting the old haunts that I used to frequent before my divorce, the bars, bistros and gathering places that I used to attend with my ex-wife, hoping that these rarely visited places might give me some new leads. Much had changed over the years. New owners in some; new barkeeps; and new patrons, which was a relief in itself. I didn’t want to bring back any of the old, painful memories. I just wanted to revisit some neglected territory in the hopes of rejuvenating my old marketing spark. The re-introductions were bittersweet with those that remained, and while their sympathies were genuine, I didn’t want their pity.

         Nearing the end of the third week, I finally dropped into a bar that I hadn’t entered in nearly four years. I used to be here nearly every Tuesday and Friday night when I was a much younger sales hotshot. It proved to be the clincher for many profitable contracts as I entertained clients those evenings. Behind the bar though, was someone I never expected to see again. “Harbor Hattie” looked exactly the same as she always had, bleached-blond hair, unlit cigarette hanging from the side of her bright-red lips, huge tits, plunging neck-line, and lifetimes of experience marking her face. An institution, she immediately recognized me as I entered the bar, and the first words out of her mouth were, “Well, well… look what the cat dragged in.” Somehow, I suddenly felt comfortable here, and I plopped onto a barstool at the bar with a feeling that I’d come home.

         My ass had barely hit the stool when she delivered a large mug of Guinness, my favorite from years gone by, and said, “We missed you around here Scotty, why the long absence?” Believe it or not, as crusty and gnarly as she appeared, she had been my rock when portions of my life had gone straight to shit years ago, and she never wavered. I slowly brought her up to date on my life since I’d last talked to her, and she was mildly amused, as usual. My impression of her has always been, “Been there, done that.”

         Leaning over the bar to listen to me, she presented me with an expansive view of her cleavage, and I could see by the expression on her face that she knew it. Smiling up at me she said, “Tell me a little bit more about that contest, Scotty.” With her, I was always Scotty. And of course, I told her everything.

         After wandering down the bar and recharging a couple of drinks for her customers, she returned with a thoughtful look on her face. Looking me in the eye, she said, “You mean, all you have to do is come up with a contract or two that exceeds hers for the month, and you win?”

          “Yeah,” I said. “But it’s not as simple as it sounds. The market now is exceedingly soft, and my department has covered nearly everything that breathes within our target area, with no results.”

          “Nearly everything?” she echoed. Looking back down at her, I noted that she had a smirk on her face, and she was obviously waiting for some kind of response from me.

          “Ok,” I said. “Just what does that mean?”

         She replied, “Did it ever occur to you that you haven’t been in this area for years? Hah! I’ve been here for centuries… well pretty close anyhow. I listen to whatever’s said, whatever’s thought, whatever’s even considered in this dump.”

          “And?” I inquired.

          “Well, Scotty,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth. “Remember Bobby Swanson, from Hector Industries?” Without waiting for me to reply she continued, “He’s been coming in here nearly every night for the past couple of weeks, bitching about not having a competent consulting staff to pull off the biggest project of his career.” I told her that I did remember him, but back then he was just a struggling young procurement manager. He was always bragging about what he could do if only he was able to gather the necessary resources to do it.

         Yeah, me too. If I had everything that I needed to conquer the world, how cool that would be. For me anyhow. I’d done a couple of medium projects for them a few years ago, but the demand from them dried up as they struggled to recoup some return on their expansion efforts. That account had become just another casualty from my divorce process, just as did this bar that I remembered so fondly. Giving Hattie a bit more of my attention, I listened to her describe—in her own way of course—what the general project requirements were, and although not clear on several points, I managed to get the gist of it. She didn’t know what the scope of the project was, nor details about costs or budget, but I began to learn enough to make the hairs creep up on the back of my neck. I felt back in my element.

         This piece of information wasn’t a whole lot, but it was certainly better than nothing, and nothing was one thing I had plenty of right now. I asked her when the last time Bobby had been in, and she informed me that he’d been there last night, but usually he came in around 7 p.m. and it was now nearly closing. Finishing the last of my Guinness, I asked Hattie to let Robert know the next time she saw him that I had a full complement of ace consultants, fresh off assignment ready to go if he was interested, and the price was right. I automatically upgraded his familiar nick-name to the formal, now that he was considered a potential client. Hattie knew that I was talking sales “bullshit” but she gave me a thumbs up as I paid my tab and left the bar. I told her on the way out that I’d be back the following evening, about 7 p.m., and I could hear her cackling laughter as I closed the door behind me.

         The next morning I returned reluctantly to the office to do some quick checking up on the financial health of Hector Industries. Happily I discovered that the company had done a lot of things right, and had not only survived the economic downturn, but had thrived in it. So, that answered my question as to whether they could afford the inclusion of a consulting team, but I couldn’t find any reference to any open bids for upcoming projects. That meant Robert, pure and simple. If I could convince him that our team could get him his dream project I was fairly comfortable that I’d have a counter-chip to present against Cathy’s project. How quickly I could do this, and how much it would pay, I had no idea. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

         As I was completing my research however, Cathy sashayed in to my office with a smirk on her face, and asked if I were up to her increasingly bizarre requirements for my enslavement for the week that I’d suffer for my loss. How she’d made the jump from “services” to “enslavement” was questionable, but I ignored the comment. Hinting that I might be required to be the host at one of her “girls’ night in” parties at her house, dressed in nothing but a ball-bag seemed to be the current theme of her taunting right now, and my blood pressure was beginning to climb. As I glanced over at her I couldn’t help but notice that she’d left maybe one too many buttons undone on her blouse, giving me a rather panoramic view of the tops of her breasts. Whether it was intentional or not, I couldn’t be sure, but as soon as she followed my gaze she quickly put herself in order, buttoning a couple to hide the evidence, as it were.

         Since my blood was up anyhow, I took a moment or two to size her up once more. If it weren’t for her exceptionally cocky competitiveness she’d look good on any lucky guy’s arm or bed for that matter. That glimpse I got of her deep cleavage reminded me that she was a hottie, which undoubtedly played no small part in her business successes, not that she wasn’t smart, because she certainly was one of the more shrewd marketing managers that I’d met. She just could be a real asshole when dealing with her peers. Remember what I said about the importance of “face” to a salesperson? Well, it didn’t hurt that the rest of the package was extremely attractive as well.

         Since I wasn’t rising to her jibes at me, she put her hand on her waist, cocked her hips and began sizing me up as well. As the smirk returned to her face, I asked, “What the hell are you looking at now?”

          “Just wondering,” she said, “whether I could guess the size of your bikini briefs, or whether I need you to bring your own.”

          “I don’t do bikini briefs,” I snarled back at her as she turned to leave my office.

         She stopped, turned around to look back at me and purred, “Remember the contest rules, Mr. Bentley: if it’s not against the law, it‘s fair game.” Watching her departing ass swaying away from me, I couldn’t help but think back to the last time I got laid. Way too long ago. . .

         Once she strolled out of sight, I gathered up all the research material I’d collected along with the dossiers of several of my best consulting staff, and headed back to the Harbor Bar. It was only 6:00 p.m., but I figured I could set the stage a bit with Hattie just in case Robert actually showed up this evening. Taking my research materials with me, I entered the bar and touched base with Hattie. Again, my Guinness magically appeared before me as I sat down on the stool, but Hattie quickly informed me that Robert had also come in early this evening—around 5:30 p.m. She’d already primed him regarding my capability and availability, and she said that he was as antsy as a virgin on prom night.

         Hattie quickly waved the “high sign” over my head, and I recognized Robert as he got up from a table and took a seat next to me. After reintroductions, he got straight to the point. The next three hours consisted of “mix and match” exchanges, both with project and consultant requirements being tagged and cataloged carefully by each of us. I was in my element once more, and I felt the rush of a successful presentation flowing through me, as the dossiers of my finest consulting staff were carefully examined by Robert and matched to requirements. He was excited, I was inwardly excited, and as the evening came to a close, all that was left was for me to was to put together a formal proposal, based upon the information that we’d exchanged. The only catch was that it had to be completed within a week, because his executive committee had given him a deadline to come up with a project team before they had to go out for bids.

         I had gotten to him in the nick of time, for both of us it seemed. The contest had been forgotten until now, but the ramifications of losing to Cathy came back as soon as I left the bar, and while I knew my staff would be pissed at the proposal deadline, they’d all pitch in for some late nights at the office putting it together to save our own “face.” The budget for this endeavor had not been discussed, simply because neither of us had enough details to justify an estimate. I just hoped that the end payoff was enough to offset Cathy’s score earlier in the month. While on my way home, I now began to think about the possibility of winning this damn contest, and what I’d do with the prize when I did. It seemed my cock had begun to appreciate some of the possibilities as well, as it had begun to swell a bit in anticipation.

         Remembering her many remarks about how she intended to humiliate me when she won, I didn’t feel very guilty about some of the thoughts that began to flood my mind about what I might do with her. My first thought was that she needed to be humbled just a bit, if for no other reason than to instill a little respect in her for her coworkers. Her constant shots at office staff were getting a bit too intense at times, and morale was beginning to suffer as a result. At the same time, if I could satisfy some of my own carnal curiosity, so much the better. By the time I got home, the erotic scenarios that I’d been running through my mind had caused a painful tightening in my groin, and I rushed into my shower to stroke the pressure out of my balls. As I finished up, exhausted, I found myself looking forward to the conclusion of this contest for the first time, but for an entirely different reason.

         Calling Sybil—our executive secretary–the first thing in the morning, I asked her to try to assemble my entire team into our office as soon as possible. Gathering up all my work from the previous night, I set out to do the near impossible, produce and present a customer proposal within the deadline.

         As expected, Cathy had seen the activity taking place in our department and had passed by to see what we were up to. Quickly explaining to her that since we were near the end of the third week of the contest, I’d decided to gather my entire crew for a last minute brain-storming session, I escorted her back out the door. As usual, she couldn’t resist a parting dig at me, saying, “I wouldn’t knock yourself out too much tiger, save some energy for my little to-do list.”

         We’ll see, I thought.

         My team is sharp, really sharp. We’d been through the proposal wars many times and had come out on time more times than not. This time was no different, although we came uncomfortably close to the deadline. Fortunately Robert stopped by our offices to pick up our proposal so he could hand-carry the finished product to his executive committee. We all waited with some level of confidence, but the ultimate decision depended on whether our expenses came close to what their budget was targeted at. I swore the group to secrecy until the decision came out, and gave them the rest of the day—and weekend—off.

         Week four crept up on us, and still no word from Robert and his executive committee. Cathy took this opportunity of the closing contest deadline to increase her taunts regarding my week of enslavement to her and her whims, but I ignored them as much as I could. Her descriptions of my humiliation began to get more and more exotic, and she confidently spread her plans to turn me into her little “house boy” for a week, subject to her beck and call, to anyone who would listen in the division. So much so, I discovered that the division personnel were becoming weary of her bragging.

         On Thursday of the last week of the contest, I returned to the Harbor Bar for a bit of moral support, and to see if Robert had passed any hints on to Hattie about the progress of the proposal that he hadn’t passed on to me.

          “Nothing yet,” she said. As I sipped thoughtfully on my Guinness, I began to feel a bit of regret for not having stopped by my old haunts earlier, that I hadn’t gotten a head start on the marketing efforts on old accounts from days gone by. It was getting a little late, and as I tossed the last of my several Guinness’ down and turned to leave, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

         Turning around, I expected to see Hattie behind me, but instead I saw an absolutely beaming Robert! As I stood there in surprise, he passed a large manila envelope down the bar to me. He said, “If you can cut the cost by $50,000, the board says you’ve got a deal.” The bid was for $1.3 million, so the $50K was trivial. I quickly found the signature line and exercised the authority given me by my company and sealed the deal. Robert and I got absolutely toasted that night, and by the time we left the bar, we were already talking about the next project that he had in mind.

         Arriving at the office next morning, I immediately went to Wade’s office and presented him with the signed contract. After quickly glancing at the bottom line, he looked back up at me in surprise. “Only $50K off the bid?” he asked. “I was expecting them to trim out a whole lot more.” Then, as though he’d just thought of something, he grinned at me and said, “Given any thought to what you’re gonna do with your prize, unless she can come up with something between now and the end of the day?” “She” of course, meant Cathy. I had no idea how much her contract was worth, so I asked him point-blank. “I think you’ve got it in the bag, Scott. As a matter of fact, your project is going to need all of her idle consulting staff as well as your own, so she may well end up working for you for the duration of the project.”

         As he sat there looking at me, I realized that he was still expecting a reply to his question before this. “I really hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought until yesterday,” I told him. “But I do remember all of her colorful descriptions of what she was going to put me through when she won, so I think I’ll sort through those and pick some that would seem appropriate.”

         Chuckling, Wade cautioned me to keep things legal as he didn’t want the company exposed to any kind of lawsuits. Assuring him that whatever I had in mind would not involve any company risk, I took my leave to give my crew the good news regarding our new project.

         The announcement took place at the end of the workday, with a very subdued, unhappy looking Cathy, and her beaten staff joining ours. Her staff perked up however, with the news that most of them would be engaged on the completion of my project. She, however, took that news as yet another sign that she had failed to come through on her promise to bring me to bay. Once the congratulations and handshakes had gone their course, I called Cathy over to a corner of the room and told her, “Cathy, I need you in my office at 10:00 a.m. on Monday morning and please come alone,” and walked away, not waiting for a reply.

         Stopping at our executive secretary’s desk on the way back to my office, I told Sybil that I needed her in my office just before 10:00 a.m. on Monday morning and returned to my office to put my plan together. I wasn’t sure that it’d work, but I wanted to make sure that one of two things happened; either Cathy submitted to my demands, or she would “lose face” for reneging on the contest agreement. My bet was on her not wanting to lose face. After all, I knew just how prideful she could be.

         Just a few minutes before 10:00 a.m. on Monday, I began to have doubts about my ability to pull this off, but I realized that I had already committed, no matter the outcome. Soon I heard a knock on my office door, and Sybil entered my office. I quickly explained to her that I needed a witness to ensure that Cathy was prepared to conform to the details of the contest requirements. No matter what she saw in this office, I told her, I needed her complete confidentiality to keep it to herself. The only thing I wanted her to disclose if asked was whether Cathy was complying to the conditions of the contest deal or not. She told me that she understood.

         At 10:00 a.m., Cathy walked into my office without knocking, telling me in her own way that she was still in charge of herself to some extent. Since I didn’t want her to get too comfortable with that thought, I immediately told her to go back and lock my office door. Frowning at me, she glanced over at Sybil, then did as I’d asked. Returning to the center of my office floor, she stopped, placed her hands on her hips, and stared at me, waiting for me to continue.

         Looking over at Sybil, I noted that she had a puzzled look on her face, wondering just what I was up to. Not wanting the moment to pass, I immediately looked Cathy straight in the eye and told her that now that I was in charge, I wanted her to remove her clothing.

         I watched as her eyes got big, and just as she was about to object, I reminded her of the details of the contest. The only stipulation was that the winner couldn’t do anything that might be illegal. I turned to Sybil and asked her, “Is nudity in the office illegal?”

         She wrinkled her brow for a few moments, then replied, “I don’t think that the ‘powers that be’ ever took that possibility into account, so no rules or regulations were written to cover that.” Glancing back at Cathy, I told her that the choice was hers; either comply with my instructions, or Sybil would be more than happy to report back to the staff that she’d refused to comply to the conditions of the deal.

         I watched a number of different emotions flash across Cathy’s face for what seemed like an awfully long time, but my initial assessment of her response finally became evident. Glancing over at Sybil once more, Cathy shrugged, and began removing her clothing. First she unbuttoned her blouse, pulled it off her shoulders and draped it across the chair in front of her. I kept my face as expressionless as I could, but the sight of her lightly tanned torso and barely covered breasts began to have an effect on me. Finishing that, she popped the snap on the side of her skirt and unzipped it, allowing it to drop to the floor around her ankles.

         Now I was faced with the sight of her long, smooth tanned legs, rising softly into her junction of pleasure, hidden only by a thin strip of translucent cloth. Clearly, she was wearing only a thong to cover her treasure. She had stopped, watching me, searching my face for a response. Seeing none—I was too entranced to react at the moment—she slowly continued removing what she had left, first her bra, then her thong. She had grit, I’ll give her that. She’d performed her duty as I’d have done, with head held high, no complaints. There was only one problem and it became evident all too soon.

         My eyes were glued to the expanse of her beautiful breasts, now bared before me. Firm, smooth, white and perfectly symmetrical, areoles tightly wrinkled, and nipples that looked like they could scratch diamonds. Dropping my gaze lower, across her navel and down to her pussy, now protected only by a thin strip of delicately trimmed pubic hair, I found I had been holding my breath way too long. Exhaling a bit louder than I wanted, I saw that I’d drawn her attention to my own awkward condition. My cock had taken advantage of my distraction, and had grown to create a considerable bulge in my pants, a condition that had not gone unnoticed by my reluctant guest. But my next step took the smirk off her face, at least for now.

         I returned to my desk and took out a package that I’d picked up over the weekend, just for this event. Unwrapping it, I picked up the item that it contained and brought it to her face to see. Watching the confusion on her face, I explained to her that although I was pretty damn conservative, I knew enough about alternative lifestyles to know that a collar, especially the one that I was holding, represented possession. I further explained to her that she’d have to wear this collar for the duration of this deal, while in our offices, and in my presence in the evenings. It was about an inch or so wide, covered in black velvet, but connected by a chrome-plated ring, large enough to be noticed by anyone within sight of her.

         She quickly glanced over at Sybil, a question on her face. Sybil it seemed, was getting into my little plan, and had leaned her hip against my desk, arms crossed under her breasts, with a smile playing around her lips. Seeing no support from Sybil, Cathy reached out, took the collar from my hands, and placed it around her neck, turning so that I could connect it at the back of her neck. Once that had been accomplished, I turned to Sybil and thanked her for being there, but indicated that she could leave my office now. Almost reluctantly, she complied.

         Now I had Cathy standing before me, naked except for her high heels and the collar snapped securely around her throat. She was covering her breasts with one arm, the other concealing her pussy, but she was still defiant, lips pressed tightly together, and looking at me through narrowed eyes.

         Regaining my composure, I said, “Drop your arms, Cathy, you belong to me now.” I waited, but she just stood there watching me, challenging me. “Unless you want me to bring Sybil back in here as a witness, Cathy, do as I say.” Finally she dropped her arms, allowing me to look upon her without obstruction. I slowly walked around her, examining her body more carefully now. She was a wonder all right, perfectly contoured hips sheltering a finely tended cunt, and an equally wondrous ass. I could lose myself in her, I thought, if I could just temper her competitive contempt for her peers. My cock, all this time had a mind of its own, pressing out against the front of my pants as an independent indicator of her effect on me.

         Finally I returned to face her. Looking me in the face, she deliberately dropped her gaze to the front of my pants, which was betraying the true level of interest I was showing in her even as I tried to show disinterest. Finally she said, “Well, do I just stand here naked all day, or do you have something else in mind?”

         Snapping back to the situation at hand, I told her that she could put her clothes back on, but that her bra and thong belonged to me. I also told her that the collar stayed on, as I’d instructed. As she was putting her blouse and skirt back on, I instructed her to come to my house that evening around 6:00 p.m., prepared to cook me a dinner. She looked at me in surprise, and said, “How do you know I can cook?”

          “If you can’t, you are going to be very hungry before the night is out.” Once she’d left my office, I picked up her underwear, pleasantly surprised that her thong was damp with her vaginal juices. Inhaling deeply over the thong, I savored the scent of her, and decided then that this was going to be a very interesting week.

         The rest of the day passed uneventfully, although the staff had definitely taken notice of Cathy’s change in appearance and attitude. She couldn’t hide that fact that she now wore a collar with a large chrome ring attached, and that she was now bra-less. The cold office air and the rougher material of her blouse had combined to tease her nipples to rigid attention. Or was it something else? No matter I thought, the sexy result was the same. I only wished now that my hangover from last night would allow me to savor my initial success over Cathy a bit more.

         The rest of the day was taken up with the details of getting my project managers in synch with the roles, rules and regulations that made up the body of the contract requirements. I was finally able to leave my office for home at about 5:15 p.m., which I figured would give me about 20 minutes to shower once I reached my front door, and greet my prize on her first day of servitude. In keeping with my order for a cooked dinner, I’d made sure that my larder and my freezer was well stocked for this event.

         I’d barely managed to finish pulling my t-shirt on and buttoning up my shorts when the doorbell rang. Slipping on my sandals, I pulled myself together, put on a stern look and opened the door. Cathy had also changed clothes I noticed, now dressed in a rather unrevealing sweater and denim pedal-pushers, something that I hadn’t seen in years. On her feet were a pair of very practical slip-on boat-deck sneakers, but most importantly, I could clearly see that she still wore the black velvet collar around her neck in plain view. As I was checking her out, I noticed that she was checking me out as well. Not that I minded, but this show was going to be for my benefit–any benefit she might receive from it would be incidental.

         Motioning her to enter, I closed the door and locked it. At the sound of the lock being turned, Cathy quickly turned to face me, nervousness in her eyes. I had done that solely to add a bit of drama to our situation, and was pleased that it worked so well. Gesturing to her that she should follow me, I gave her a quick tour of my home, and we ended up in the kitchen. Pointing out the finer points of my kitchen equipment, and even providing her with access to several good cookbooks that I had on hand, I told her that she had carte blanche with any ingredients that she might find in larder, refrigerator and freezer. Her goal was to produce a meal for two, by 8 p.m., but I had one other condition that I thought she might object to.

         Going to the kitchen closet, I pulled out an apron that, while protecting all of her precious assets, would certainly be revealing in many other ways while she cooked. Looking at me with a puzzled expression as I handed her the apron, I hurried to inform her that this was to be the only thing she was to wear while cooking, aside from her sneakers and her collar. I watched the expressions cross her face as she thought about this, and finally she said, “You’ve already seen me naked, why do I have to do this again?”

          “It gives me pleasure, that’s why.” I replied. “That’s all you have to know. I know that Sybil would be delighted to stop over and be an observer if you wish.”

         Shaking her head in defeat, she removed her sweater, dropping it on one of the kitchen chairs. I was pleasantly surprised to see that she hadn’t replaced her bra, her charms spilling out in all their glory. I couldn’t help but wonder what they felt like, imagining myself pinching the nipples between my fingers, and wondering what she’d sound like when I did. But, I was walking a pretty thin line here, between what would be considered legal and illegal. Whatever happened from here on out, I had to be very careful.

         Cathy popped the button on her pedal-pushers, pulled the zipper down and dropped them to her ankles. Again, I was surprised to find out that she’d not replaced the thong that I’d taken possession of in my office. In answer to my puzzled expression, she said, “I don’t have that many pairs of panties, so I wanted to make sure you didn’t end up with them all.” Quickly donning the apron, she covered herself as well as she could, and excused herself to begin cooking.

         I stood watching her for a couple of minutes, her ass cheeks gently quivering as she moved about the kitchen. Initially I had simply planned on wearing her arrogance down to an acceptable level, but seeing her in the altogether, and obeying my commands, was beginning to awaken unfamiliar emotions in me. Of course she was still stubbornly conforming to the conditions of the “Deal,” so it would come down to which one of us would break first. I could see the defiance on her face as she reluctantly stepped through the motions necessary to complete the tasks I gave her.

         The dinner was quite good, given her unfamiliarity with my kitchen, and the distraction I faced as I watched her bare breasts moving about before me as she ate didn’t detract from the fact that I was impressed. Insisting that she remain naked while she was with me did not seem to cause her the distress that I’d hoped, although I could see that it annoyed her. All I needed was one little crack in her façade, something that she refused to do that was within the bounds of the “Deal,” and I’d have put a considerable dent in it, bringing her off her pedestal a bit. There was only one major flaw in my plan . . . Me.

         It’d been nearly four years since my divorce, and my ex had ripped me a new one on her way out of my life. I’d given up quite a lot to get away from her, and my lack of a social life was proof of that. Masturbating to an occasional fuck-flick was about the only relief that I’d had during that time, as I wasn’t in any mood for any more painful commitments. My body thought differently, as I was finding out. Watching this beautiful, naked female so close to me was putting me on a major “testosterone alert.” My return to the Harbor Bar and old Hattie had brought back memories; both good and bad, erotic and painful.

         Raising my eyes from her lovely tits, I saw that she was watching me carefully, probably trying to guess my next move. I knew that she was affected by all this, simply because her nipples had remained rigid during this entire period, testing my resolve to see this thing through. I needed to turn up the tension on her stress meter a bit more I decided.

         Dinner complete, I watched her clear off the table and take the dirty dishes back to the kitchen to clean. Funny how I’d never really noticed much sensuality when Cathy was dressed up in a business suit, but now that she was without clothing, her whole attitude seemed to have changed. There seemed to be a bit more sway in her hips, and the way she straightened her back whenever she faced me seemed designed to showcase her beautiful breasts. It seemed that her body was beginning to betray her assumed air of arrogance, as mine was beginning to betray my assumed air of indifference. My cock was becoming harder and harder—pun intended—to conceal.

         I’d sat at the dinner table a little too long I discovered, for while I was running all this through my mind, she had finished up in the kitchen and was on her way back. I still had a hard-on that once discovered, might knock my whole scheme on its ear. I was determined that she not know the full extent of her effect on me, so I sent her back into the kitchen to retrieve a couple of beers, and told her to join me in the living room.

         Retrieving the accessory to her collar that I’d purchased earlier, I plopped my ass on the couch, turned on the TV, changed the channel to a dull documentary, and pulled a couple of the decorative pillows onto my lap. Within a minute or so, Cathy walked in with a couple of brews, stopping just in front of me to deliver mine. I could see by the look on her face that she was still displaying an arrogant, defiant attitude, but I also noted that there were small droplets of moisture shining in her pubic hair, and the faint, musky scent of her arousal drifted into my nostrils, causing my painful erection to torment me even further.

         So I put the next step of my plan into place. Taking my beer from her and placing it on the end table, I instructed her to do the same, and turn so that her back was towards me. I stood, and pulled her collar around so that I could see the chrome ring, and snapped a 3 foot long silver chain on it, allowing it to dangle over her bare ass. She shivered at the touch of the cold metal’s touch on her skin, but seemed to accept what I’d just done. I hadn’t touched her directly yet, but that barrier was quickly dropping.

         Leaning in to the side of her face, I breathed softly against the back of her ear, whispering, “Ms. Stretch, you haven’t been very nice to me over the past few months. Why is that?” No response, but I noticed that she’d tensed up. “Was I that hard on you?” I continued. Still, no response. Looking over her shoulder, I saw goose bumps rising on her forearms. I slid my hand up the length of the chain connected to her collar, pressing the cold links into her skin. Again, I saw her shiver, and she looked down at the floor in front of her. “You haven’t been a very good girl, have you?” I continued. She tried to move away from me, but I kept a hold on the silver chain.

         Finally I got a little irritated with her silence, and slapped her on the ass, hard. She flinched and let out a little yelp, but otherwise just stood there, facing away from me. As I watched a red welt begin to form on her ass-cheek, and I hissed into her ear, “I expect answers to my questions, or the ‘Deal’ is off.”

         Straightening up, she sighed and said, “No, you weren’t hard on me. But I thought the only way I could get respect in our division was challenging the best in the division. That was you.”

          “I wasn’t competing with you,” I said.

          “I know,” she replied. “That’s what made it easy for me.”

         I thought about that for a few seconds, and said to her, “Hardly sporting, don’t you think? Our division had prided ourselves on teamwork in our best years.” As I said that I gave the end of the chain a little flick, causing the tip to snap sharply against her ass-cheek. She jerked forward again, letting out a little cry, but stifling it almost before it escaped her lips. She was determined not to give in to whatever she thought I had in mind. Tough little bitch, I had to admit.

         What she didn’t know was that I had run out of ideas at the moment. She was causing me a different kind of distraction right now, as my cock had never wavered from its expression of appreciation for her beauty. It was getting painful with the constant strain of trying to break through my shorts. As I stood there thinking what I needed to do next, I heard her moan. Looking down quickly, I was surprised to see that I had absent-mindedly begun caressing her bare ass with my free hand, and she had finally begun to react to my touch. To make things even more interesting, that moan wasn’t what I’d have expected if she’d objected to my attention.

         It was becoming quite apparent that simple humiliation wasn’t getting me any closer to creating a more humble Cathy, but maybe a little torture might. Not real hard-core stuff, but more along the lines of stoking her centers of pleasure as I identified them, then withdrawing them to intensify her frustration level. A little more complicated, sure, but I had a whole week to play with her.

         I’d already identified a couple of things that worked, and a couple that didn’t, so now I had to turn up the heat, but carefully. As much as I wanted to rush things right now, and fuck her senseless, the last thing our struggling company needed was a rape accusation. Whatever I managed to get from her would have to be willing, and if I played my cards right, I might even get an opportunity for a command performance.

         With my free hand I pulled off my belt, while continuing to softly caress the cheeks of her lovely ass. Since I had met with no resistance so far, I took this opportunity to explore some potential boundaries with my reluctant guest. Replacing my hand with the last 8 inches of my belt, I began dragging the end of it across her butt and up her lower rib cage to her shoulder blades. Laying it upon her neck, I slowly dragged it up the nape of her neck, and behind her pretty ears. The response I observed was encouraging, at least from my viewpoint. A fairly normal tickle response except that she actually seemed to move back into my strokes, rather than away from them, and moaned quite sensuously.

         I could tell that she was trying to suppress the moans, but the sinuous movement of the muscles in her back told me that she was also attempting to extract the maximum amount of pleasure out of the contact that she could. I suspect that the combination of her nudity in front of me, the collar, the chain, the meal, the beer and the “Deal” may have all conspired to effect her erogenous zones rather than her exaggerated sense of pride. The problem of course, was that it was affecting me as well.

         Finally, I took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face me. Immediately her gaze dropped to my groin, which I might point out, had never stopped displaying my admiration of her physical attributes. I noted that her chest, from her breasts to her face, had taken on a ruddy glow, and that her eyes seemed to be a bit watery. Her lips appeared to be a bit puffy as well, and I sensed that she seemed to be breathing a bit heavily. Even through all this, she began to twist a smirk to her lips.

         As soon as I noticed this, I brought the tip of my belt down on her left nipple with a little pop. Startled, Cathy began to bring her hands up to cover her breasts, but I stopped her with my hands, telling her, “Anytime you want me to stop what I’m doing, just tell me, and the ‘Deal’ is off. Then we can get back to ‘business as usual.’” Business as usual meant of course, that she’d have to admit to the whole division that she was unable to complete the conditions of the contest “Deal.” Truthfully, all I wanted was her to tone down her arrogance at work a bit.

          “By the way,” I said. “You don’t seem to be put off much by being naked in front of me. Why is that?”

         After a bit of silence, she shrugged her shoulders as though she’d made up her mind about something and replied, “Until I started high school, I grew up in a Nudist Community with my parents, where nudity was not an issue.”

         Ok, so I didn’t see that coming. But it was proof enough that I had to turn up the heat a bit in our little scenario. Nudity was one thing, but control might give me an edge.

         Dragging the tip of my belt slowly across her nipples, I noticed that Cathy had closed her eyes, and again had begun breathing a little more heavily. Her lips were still looking a bit puffy, although she was trying to keep them clenched tight. Curious, I reached my free hand up to her face, and gently caressed her lips with my fingertips. Trembling, eyes still shut, she opened her mouth just enough to admit my forefinger. Dragging my finger along her teeth, I stopped for a moment, and lightly pinched her lower lip. Her eyes suddenly opened, and I thought I saw a brief look of panic on her face as a slight frown began to form between her eyes.

         Stepping a bit closer to her, I allowed my painfully erect cock to brush against her belly through my shorts. As intense as this might be for her, I was experiencing a serious case of blue balls at the moment. Leaning into her shoulder, I inhaled the scent of her soft perfume, intermingled with the musky scent of her arousal, put my mouth close to her ear and breathed, “All you have to do is say ‘Stop,’ and we can call an end to all this.”

         Again, she paused. Then, shaking her head once more, she said, “No. A deal is a deal.” Then, under her breath she whispered, “I don’t want to lose like this. You’ll never make me lose like this.” Finally, I had to make a decision before I exploded.

          “Cathy,” I said under my breath. “I’m going to make you give up before these seven days are up. I’m going to find something that you will not tolerate from me, and you will give up. And, it will be absolutely legal. Once you do break this deal, I expect you to display considerably more respect for your co-workers from that point on.”

         Watching her face harden, lips compressed in a stubborn show of arrogance, I knew I was out of my element, and my promise to break her sounded hollow even in my own ears. I needed help, and I thought I knew where I could find it.

         Unsnapping the chain from her collar, I told her that we were finished for the evening, and that she could leave. I also reminded her that she was to continue wearing the collar at the office and remain without underwear. That was to be my little test to make sure that she was still conforming to the rules of the “Deal.”

         Shooting me an evil look, Cathy quickly put on her sweater, pedal-pushers and shoes, and without saying a word, left my house.

         Dammit! I just wished she wasn’t such a beauty; I could have felt a whole lot better about my plan to humble her in front of her co-workers.

"Seven Days of Service - Day Two"