The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Well, Miss—".

“That’s ‘MS’—".

Peterson looked up sharply at the long haired brunette. He wasn’t used to be spoken to in that tone by a woman within the walls of Cain and he wasn’t about to put up with it now. Especially over the use of a title he made it a policy not to recognize. Jennifer Anne Buford probably realized she had gone a bit far herself and smiled somewhat apologetically.

“Sorry. I take my feminism seriously, Mr. Petersen—nothing personal meant.”

Peterson decided to forgive her. She had a nice smile, with a wide, generous mouth on what some might find a somewhat horsey face, but one he sort of liked.

He nodded and continued reading her resume. “Well—I see from your resume that you haven’t worked in a while. Can you tell me why you’ve applied here at Cain Consulting and what you’ve been doing with your Vassar English degree for the last, um, sixteen years?”

Her mouth firmed up, the hazel eyes meeting his with a determined glint. My, what a little spitfire you are Miss Buford, he thought contemptuously.

“I had my first child and decided to stay home. But if you look at the details of my last position with Proctor and Gamble, you’ll see skills there that—".

“And why are you interested in returning to the workplace now, Jennifer Anne?”

Her eyes flickered resentfully. “Please, just Jennifer, if you must use first names. I was a Jennifer Anne throughout high school and I hated it. Anyway, my husband and I just went through a divorce and he’s vanished, despite his promise to pay alimony—not to mention child support. I’m responsible for a mortgage—and not a small one either. Now about that P&G position—I should point out that I was actually the first female product manager in P&G’s history. I think I can bring that kind of talent here to Cain—”

Petersen let her drone on for a minute while he examined her. She was a thin waspish girl, well—she was forty-two but all women were girls to Petersen now. It hadn’t always like that, but Klaw had showed him how it was. Just girls. And he had seen plenty of girls in his position as Human Resources Director at Cain Consulting. Everything from fresh faced coed interns to MBA six figure executive talent. It made no difference—he only read their resumes to better determine how they might best be broken in. Normally he wouldn’t have even considered bringing a girl like this into Cain, but something she had mentioned intrigued him.

“You have a child?”

She smiled proudly. “Two actually—one sixteen, the other fifteen.”

“Ummm. Nice. Boys?”

She shook her head and offered him a photo from her purse. “Forgive an obnoxious mother. The older one’s Lisa, the younger one’s Kathy.”

Petersen liked what he saw. The older girl, a strawberry blonde with blue eyes, had the spirited look of her mother, with a playful pixie aspect to her freckled complexion. She probably wasn’t the prettiest girl in her class, but it looked like she made up for it with personality. The younger girl was a blonde who looked like a double for Marsha Brady from the old TV show. Both sported a pair of small, pointy breasts underneath their sweaters.

“Pretty girls. You must be proud.” He handed the photo back to her.

For now.

“They’re both straight A students,” she pointed out. “Now, about the position I saw advertised—”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Miss Buford. That was for a project manager.”

The woman glared at him. “Yes, I know, MISTER Petersen. Have you filled the position already?”

“Actually no. But you could hardly be considered for a job like that. I mean—you’re a woman, aren’t you?”

“WHAT?!?!?!” She was on her feet, her carefully set black hair springing loose a bit. He noted how chesty she was. And underneath her Chanel suit skirt, he detected a rounded tight ass.

“Be a good girl and sit down Jennifer Anne.” Concentrating, he engaged a small amount of Conditioning to convince her to obey him. He was careful not to use too much at this stage. It always gave him a headache when he used too much too quickly.

Confused, she did as she was told.

“You’d do well to refrain from outbursts like that in the future,” he told her. “You’d better apologize for being so rude.”

The woman blinked rapidly as the Conditioning settled in more deeply. “Uhmm... but you said—I mean, uh, I... I’m sorry, Mister Petersen. I don’t...".

“That’s a good girl.” Peterson relaxed a bit. Once the initial Conditioning was in place, it became a little easier. “Now about your application—I just don’t know if we need another secretary right now, Jennifer Anne. Which is too bad, since I know how desperate you are.” Careful. “You really need a job, don’t you Jennifer Anne?”

There was some doubt in her eyes, and a little anger at the use of the name ‘Jennifer Anne’, but she nodded. “Yes, yes I really do. Are you sure you don’t have anything for me?”

Now the Conditioning was settling in nicely. Peterson smiled. She was extraordinarily susceptible; maybe he’d get through this without the headache. “I really need a job and I need one right away. I have kids, Mr. Petersen—good kids.”

He considered the plea... toying with her. “Oh, I don’t know. I mean, that’s not really MY problem, is it? I’m not to blame if your husband ran out and left you in the lurch, am I?” He loved the look of desperation in her face. Let her squirm—uppity bitch needed to learn who held the cards.

“Oh, I know—and maybe I came on a bit strong about my background too. I’m sorry for that. I’m certainly not above taking work as a secretary.”

There was sincerity in her voice now which meant that the Conditioning was firmly in place; she was his to do with as he pleased. Still he wanted to play it out—she needed to be consciously put in her place in a public way.

“Well... can you type?” he asked doubtfully.

Her eager expression and quick nod answered that question. Still, he tried to appear unconvinced. “Hmmm. You seem a bit old for the job—we like pretty young girls here at Cain Consulting to do our scutwork.”

A few minutes ago that would have brought howls of outrage. Now it elicited a delightful expression of despair on the part of the former executive. He watched in fascination as she forced a little smile on her face and try to give him a coquettish response.

“Oh, I’d try very, very hard Mister Petersen—really I would! And I’d do every bit as much as the younger girls do—and more if you like.” She blinked rapidly, unable to hold his gaze now.

Time to push it a bit more. Make certain the Conditioning had set. “Well, you’re a redhead—not many of our executives prefer redheads. You’d dye it, I assume, if your boss preferred you be, say a blonde?”

She nodded wearily, beaten. “If that’s what it took.” He stared at her. “Mister Petersen,” she promptly added.

Peterson relaxed. He could afford to be magnanimous now, but he wasn’t going to be. “I shouldn’t do this, but, hell, maybe Thompson in Accounting needs a new girl and then there’s Kendall in Research...". He looked her over with a shrug. “Guess I was touched by your story, Jennifer Anne. Tell you what—no promises, but maybe there might be something. I’ll make a few calls and see if any of the executives are interested in looking you over.”

Jennifer Buford hated the way that he was talking about presenting her like a piece of furniture, as if she depended on her looks to get and keep a new job. But then she realized that’s exactly the way it was going to work.

And, with a feeling of growing desperation, that she’d do anything for this job. “Great, Mr. Petersen!” She smiled. “Thank you SO MUCH!”

He didn’t respond. “Of course, you’ll have to strip down. Hope you wore some pretty undies for us!”

Her proud face was pale now. “I have to, to s-strip, Mister Petersen?”

He glared at her as a twinge of pain radiated out from his forehead. Maybe just a touch more Conditioning. Concentrate...

“Yes, Jennifer Anne. Down to your undies anyway. And you’ll do it right now, so a bunch of strange men can look you over and decide whether or not you’re attractive enough to keep as a personal little office bunny. And since I’m in such a good mood, I’ll allow you to keep those heels on. Now be a good little girl and take off that godawful outfit.”

Concentrate...

Jennifer Buford sat, stunned into silence. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this blatantly sexist treatment. Everything fibre in her body screamed out to her that this was wrong... this was monstrous... She ached to stand up, slap Peterson and stalk out of the office.

Her Conditioning wavered... and ... held.

Trembling, her fingers began the business of losing her business suit. Soon she stood, shivering and nude save for her matching white lace bikini panties and brassiere and the three inch heels.

“Lovely undies,” Peterson commented, her forehead beaded with perspiration. “Wait here. I’ll get the boys.”

She waited.

Soon, three men filed into the office, all of them at least five years younger than herself. She looked down at the floor, avoiding their stares. Blushing furiously, she wondered how it had all come down to this.

“Here she is boys,” Peterson announced. “Miss Jenny Buford—or Jennifer Anne if you prefer. I’m sure she’ll go by whatever you choose to call her, should she be lucky enough to be chosen by any of you as your secretary.”

She couldn’t bear to look at any of them directly, but was mortified at the response to her humiliation.

“Jesus, Petersen,” one of them scoffed. “Can’t you get us something a little younger?”

“Oh, Jenny said she’ll work really hard to make up for in experience what she lacks in youth. She’s only forty-two—not exactly over the hill!”

“Well...". The man sounded unconvinced. “The tits aren’t bad, I guess.”

“Put your hands behind your back and stick your pretty boobs out for us, Jenny,” Peterson instructed. “There’s a good girl. Well, I guess you’re right—what IS your bra size, honey?”

“Thirty-six C, Mister Petersen,” she choked out.

One of the men laughed.

“See? She is... talented. In the breast department, at least. But turn around Jenny—show these executives what else you’ve got.”

She did so, to at least one more or less satisfied grunt.

“Tight ass—real tight ass. You work out honey?” the grunter asked.

“Y-yes, Sir. I play tennis.”

The man snorted. “Too ritzy a pastime for a mere secretary. I think you’ll be doing aerobics from now on, honey. My name’s Mister Kendall. I’ll be your new boss—unless any of you other guys object?” No objections were raised. “But she’ll be on probation for at least six months—if she doesn’t work out, I want a replacement with tits like these—ok Petersen?”

The Human Resources Director nodded, agreeing to the bargain. “I think you’ll be quite pleased—true she’s no beauty—,” Jennifer Buford stiffened—“but there are other... uhm, collateral benefits to this hire I think you’ll appreciate. Although you’ll be disappointed in the boobs department.”

Kendall’s eyebrows went up. “What do you mean?”

Petersen drew a photo out of Jennifer Buford’s purse, handing it to the head of Research. “Take a look.”

The Human Resources Director wearily rubbed her pain filled forehead as Kendall nodded appreciatively at the picture. It seemed to get harder every time.

He’d have to talk to Klaw about it.