Chapter 1 left off with Nick scrambling to please his boss Miss Hart, who delights in setting him tasks where he is doomed to fail and be humiliated. Her dominant female employees are set on taking advantage of him and seeing how far they can push his boundaries.
Shuffling back down the hall tugging at his tight collar and cuffs, he nearly tripped over a woman who had pushed her chair right out into the corridor and had propped up her foot against the wall, languidly dangling a shoe off her toe, fiddling with a lock of long black hair. She smiled at him, wolflike. She uncrossed her legs and pushed herself off the chair to stand inches from him. He rubbed his neck and studied the carpet.
“Hallo, I’m Moira. I’ll be supervising you now. Miss Hart is too busy so it’s my job to keep you on target.” She pushed past him, turning to beckon him to follow. “But let’s do this first.” In her green velvet pencil skirt, the slit rising curiously high, she shimmered.
Out the door, down a hallway, up some stairs and into the women’s bathroom. He stopped at once and let the door squeak closed in front of him. Moments later it blew open and Moira grabbed his wrist, tugging him in.
She prodded him into a stall. “The lock doesn’t work properly,” she said, and he shrank into the corner of the tiny space when she hiked up her skirt.
“You’ll keep it shut for me, won’t you.” He did as he was told, tightly holding the door with his eyes squeezed closed. She exhaled deeply as her piss hit the water, relieved. “Turn around,” she ordered sharply. He wrenched away to face her straight on.
She grinned in that hungry wolf way and parted her legs, so the rushing noise of her stream echoed off the walls, and whispered, “If you talk to anyone about this, I’ll tell your agency that you wouldn’t do anything you were assigned. I’ll tell them that you were lazy and stubborn…ahh.” she sighed as the stream slowed to drips, and Nick kept his eyes on her, knuckles white from gripping the door shut.
“Paper.” She held out her hand.
They froze at the sound of squealing door hinges and confident heels walking over the tiled floor. One pair of shoes tapping its toe outside the stall, and two pairs of shoes facing each other in the confining cubicle.
“Moira.” said a voice, brusquely.
“Moira I know it’s you, we’ve spoken about this.” The voice was rich, silky and German. “You can’t do this on company time. It will be your third offence this month. Shape up and come out now.”
The flush of the toilet, and Nick squirmed out first. He was met with a striking woman, blonde, sturdy and handsome. She looked past him, unsmiling.
“Out now. Be quick.” Moira bumped into him from behind and he stumbled into the statuesque woman. She sneered at the contact. “Who is this?”
“Audra, this is the newest temp we were waiting for, he’s here to assist with the filing for the audit.”
Audra’s face showed sudden interest. “Ah, here to assist is he?” She turned on all the taps and then stood next to Moira, giving Nick a hard appraising look. “And how’s the assistant doing so far?”
Nick started to answer but was cut off with a stony glare. “I wasn’t talking to you, boy, I was addressing my colleague. So arrogant, this one. Thinks he can tell us how he’s doing? Stand up straight, you’re stooping.” Their heels clicked the tiles as they edged closer towards him, closing the gap between them and the wall of sinks.
“He’s doing alright, but I suppose we’ll see as the day goes on.” Teeth glinting, enjoying his visible discomfort, they drew closer. He bumped against the counter. Still they inched closer, their eyes dancing over his body, calculating, judging, their snug pencil skirts and bursting buttoned shirts radiating forbidden heat. They pressed themselves tight against him from both sides and he bent backwards, a jolt running through him as shockingly cold water splashed his back.
They sprung back at his yelp, and were gone from the room.
He looked around wildly, confused how they had disappeared so fast. He spun around to the mirror and saw a dishevelled mess brimming with tears.
Bracing against the counter with all three sinks running he spoke to himself. “What is going on in this place? Am I being bullied? This is unprofessional. I should leave. I should call the agency and ask to be transferred straight away.” He dabbed cold water at his wrists and neck to calm himself, and felt a tightness in his trousers, a stain blooming at the front.
He scrubbed roughly at the stain, dampening the fabric more. “I can’t do this,” he muttered, “I don’t understand what’s happening to me. They’re all so mean but I don’t know if I want to stop…” He stared hard at his reflection. “Get a grip. Think about what you need to do today. Think about alphanumerical order. Paper clips. Staples.” He felt his trousers, no change.
Miss Hart caught him walking stiffly past her office. “Where have you been? You’re paid by the hour. You’ve been gone twenty minutes.”
“I’m sorry Miss Hart, I had to…attend to something.”
The CEO looked down at him and sucked air through her teeth. “Ah. Well, an office full of women does take getting used to. Go get me a nice cup of tea why don’t you.”
“Yes, Miss Hart. Thank you.”
As the water boiled, his prick calmed down. The stain was still there, dark and wet and obvious. He returned to Miss Hart’s desk, silently placing the cup next to her. She took a sip and spat it back in the cup with contempt. “You grimy little speck. You’ve served me swamp water.”
“Sorry, it’s made how I thought you’d like it -”
“Too much sugar! No milk! Vile boy.” With a flick of her wrist she knocked it over the desk and it splashed everywhere, dripping off the table and beading onto the thick carpet. This was the time to push him over the edge, to overwhelm him to free him.
“Don’t gawk at me you stupid twat, get a mop.”
In the next chapter, Nick the temp is squashed into a car and driven to lunch with the entire staff. A bizarrely kinky meal shoulder to shoulder with Dommes, he is coerced into service.
To his right, Helena’s fork fell from her place and clattered under the table. The company quietened and eyes bore down on him. Miss Hart lazily squeezed lemon onto an oyster and slipped it down her throat. She smacked her lips and said, “Helena dropped her fork, Nick. Get to the floor, now. Pick it up.”
He squirmed off the bench and under the table, dark and cramped. He started crawling to retrieve the fork, and a foot touched his back. A heel pressed into his shoulder and then a kick landed square on his arse and a tumult of shoves, pushes and jabs all over his body. He covered his face to make it to where it lay, grabbed it and fought his way out on his knees and elbows, dodging blows from all sides in the dark. Helena’s face beamed down at him and he polished the fork with a corner of his shirt. He offered it up to her and she grabbed it, clutching his hand.