"Ultimate control, Mr. Black. Is that what you wish me to have? Mr. Black..."
"Mr. Black!" the receptionist calls out to him once again, but with a slightly higher tone, tinged with irritation.
He comes out of his reverie and closes the magazine he has had open for several minutes. He cannot even remember what article he was looking at. His fantasy had gathered all of his attention and the magazine he opened earlier was forgotten between his smooth, large hands.
"The doctor will see you now."
He stands and smiles, throwing the magazine upon the pile of older subscriptions stacked on the small coffee table. "Thanks," he says in a soft lilting Scottish accent. "Sorry about that."
The secretary openly stares at his 6 foot frame and mentally makes a note to herself that tall men are sexy. "Down the hall, last door on the left, Mr. Black. Dr. Jensen is waiting for you."
He is about to say thanks again but realizes that she has returned to the paperwork scattered across her desk. He turns and starts to walk down the crisp, white hallway. The sterile environment makes him feel just a little uneasy. No color, no windows, no light! How can anyone work like this? White walls? Gray tiles? The sound of his shoes echo off the walls and before he can come to a conclusion about the silence, he is in front of Dr. Jensen's door. Before he can knock, a very feminine voice from the other side of the door reaches him. "It's open, Mr. Black. Please come in."
His fingers wrap around the handle and slowly he opens the door, taking in the sight and smell of the office. There is a hint of lemon and raspberry in the air, like potpourri. Unfortunately, the interior of the office reflects the same conservatism as the hallway. The walls are hospital white while the dark gray tile has spilled itself onto the floor in here as well. The office furniture is also austere with a black leather Jessica couch and loveseat dominating the middle of the office. Dr. Jensen's desk, black steel and frosted glass, sits off to the side with two black chairs facing towards the desk. A large picture window overlooks the city skyline from thirty floors above the street. The sun is starting to set and the building from across the way showers any onlookers with glimpses of office cleaners emptying trash cans and vacuuming messy floors. He wonders if anyone can see into this office as well. Dr. Jensen has yet to be seen so he decides to take a seat on the leather couch.
From the right corner of the room near the picture window, Dr. Jensen appears, turning off a light from what seems to have been an adjoining bathroom. She is dressed impeccably in a black and gray stripped business suit and wearing glasses with her black hair piled on the top of her head while wisps of hair escape her obviously quick-pinned up hairdo. As she approaches, he notices that she is wearing black nylons and.........black stiletto heels! He shifts in his seat, feeling the beginning of a hard on advancing.
"So, Mr. Black, do you know why you are here?" Dr. Jensen asks, choosing to sit in the loveseat, their knees almost touching but not quite. She leans on the armrest and casually crosses her legs. The tip of her shoe brushes against his pant leg. He feels his cock jerk in response.
"I was told by my supervisor this is an annual psychological evaluation that is conducted throughout the organization with every employee."
"You are correct, Mr. Black," she replies, "and if you do as I say, then you will pass with flying colors."
"Excuse me?" A feeling of excitement is starting to build within him, but he is still unsure of where this conversation will lead.
Dr. Jensen suddenly stands and his face is eye level to where her pussy would be if she didn't have that damned skirt on. He believes he can actually smell her cunt through all those layers of material that she has on. He tilts his head up only to find she is looking down at him with a slight smile on her face. She leans down until her face is just inches away from his. Her breath smells like peppermint as it fans ever so lightly across his mouth. "Let me make one thing clear, Mr. Black," Dr. Jensen says while she stares into his eyes. "For the next three hours, you are mine. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, and however I want to do it. If you choose not to agree with this, you will be fired from your job and I am sure that no one in Honolulu will want to hire you after I'm thru with your evaluation. Do you understand what I am telling you?"
"Perfectly," he says. "Good," she replies, "and from now on until the end of this session, you will address me as Mistress when you are spoken to and I will address you as...whatever name I fancy at the moment." She straightens, lifts up her right heel and plants it upon his heart, just below his left shoulder. As she leans into him, he is pushed back into the couch. The point of her heel begins to dig into his chest, but she hasn't put all of her weight onto him, just enough to cause the point of her stiletto to make a deep unnerving and slightly painful imprint upon his chest. He winces as the heel digs a little deeper into his skin. "Have I made myself clear, Mr. Black?" she voices, her skirt bunching up higher around her nylon clad thighs.
To be continued......