“I consider everyone who works for me to be a member of my family.” I was interviewing for a job in this woman’s business. We sat across the desk from each other and she asked me a few perfunctory questions. I started to answer and before I could get out more than a few words, she hurled this statement at me. I responded from the heart.
“I’d like nothing better than to be a member of your family.” My hart began to beat faster. She was a handsome black woman with an imposing name; Mrs. Waverly Smolders. Tall, stately, well spoken, she looked to be in her late fifties or early sixties; I liked it that she wore no makeup.
Now she said softly “I like you, Steven”
“Thank you.” Ever so slightly I could feel myself blushing. I melted into the seat. I’d gladly give her anything she asked for or demanded.
She started writing on the pad in front of her. Suddenly she looked up.
“You use drugs, honey” For her, honey was not a term of endearment. Startled, not by the question but her ability to change tone and demeanor on a dime; I would not want to be the employee to cross her.
“No” I blurted out but without any force behind it. She continued staring at me. I regrouped.
“I mean, I did years ago.” I had a brief but intense involvement with drugs years ago and always regretted it. It was a relief to admit it now.
She continued looking at me. “I’m very tough on drug users.”
I lowered my chin but continued looking her in the eye. She took the pad she had been writing on and turned it around so that it faced me.
“Now Steven, you will write down for me all the drugs you use. She continued using the present tense and I knew it was no use to protest that all of my involvement with drugs had been in the past. Besides, I wanted to get it off my chest.
As best as I could remember, I wrote out a list of all the drugs I had used and their dates of consumption. I handed her back the pad of paper. She looked down at the list and I could see her face pucker up into the tartest of expressions.
“Someone uses a lot of drugs.” She repeated several times before looking up at me with an eat shit grin on her face. A grin which suggested I would now belong to her. This I did not mind as I had come in a short span of time to like her very much and would not have minded too much if she chose to humiliate me.
Mrs. Smolders picked up the phone and asked someone to come in. A minute later a white woman entered the office. From what I could see as I waited to be interviewed, every employee, about fifty in all, was female. Most were Afro-American but I did see an occasional white or Hispanic woman. I wondered if I was wasting my time and though of just getting up and leaving when Mrs. Smolders strode up to me all smiles, shaking my hand warmly, and welcoming me into her office.
Now this white woman was standing at the side of the desk. From what I had seen of all the office workers, she did not look like she belonged here. A coarse face with large features, a big muscular body without any proportion or grace, she wore polyester pants which displayed her large but firm ass. Mrs. Smolders handed her the pad on which we had both written.
This white woman, whose name I later learned was Chalmers, never looked at me. She repeated what Mrs. Smolders had said.
“Someone uses a lot of drugs.” Then she looked at Mrs. Smolders.
“Do you want me to strip search him? I looked ahead stiffly knowing if push came to shove, she could do it. As a result of an abusive and dysfunctional childhood, I had many masochistic fantasies. But I found this person too coarse for my tastes. Smiling, Mrs. Smolders looked at me but spoke to Chalmers.
“I’ll take care of it.”
Smolders picked up the phone again and asked someone named Dolly to come into the office. This time she was black and big but unlike the previous white woman she was soft. Smolders handed her the pad.
Dolly looked at me. You use all these drugs?”
“It was a long time ago.” As soon as I said it I knew this was the wrong answer. She stared at me, her big brown eyes exuding hardness but also a certain maternal caring.
“If I had been your momma when you used drugs, I would have given you a…” here she paused and without thinking I finished her sentence.
“Licking.”
“Mmmm… M.”
Smolders not only intended me to pay for my drug use, something I would gladly do as it would relieve my guilt and satisfy my desires, but also intended to make my humiliation as public as possible.
I played along with her. “I wish you had been my momma when I used drugs.”
Dolly tried very hard not to smile but I could see the corners of her mouth turn upwards.
Then this big soft black woman to whom I felt myself strangely attracted, looked down again at the pad and continued.
“What I would have done to you! Your backside would have been so…”
“Red.” Each time she paused I finished her sentences. After several minutes of hectoring, she once again looked at me.
“How many times were you arrested and how much time did you spend in jail?”
“I was never arrested or spent any time in jail!” I was quite proud of always having enough sense to avoid the authorities.
Smolders leaned forward and in a very conspiratorial tone as if Dolly was no longer in the room whispered “I’m going to put you in jail.”
I puckered my face at this thought and sat frozen in anticipation of what was to come. And once again, out of the corner my eye, I could see Dolly smiling.
Smolders turned to Dolly and said thank you. I watched as Dolly turned and idled out of the office, proud of her ample proportions and well aware I was watching that big ass of hers waddle out the door. Ordinarily I was not attracted to women who were that big and soft but something about the way she carried herself turned me on. Then again, the entire interview process had seesawed between seduction and strictness resulting in a tension I found extremely erotic.
Smolders watched me watching Dolly. When I turned my attention back to her she stood up and motioned me over to the couch. We sat next to each other and she spoke very slowly and deliberately, all the time looking straight ahead.
As I told you before, I’m very tough on drug users.”
“I don’t use drugs.” Again I felt the need to protest my innocence at the same time as I wanted to be punished for my sins. She ignored me and continued to speak very slowly and deliberately.
“I had a son, Robert, a very bright and sensitive boy. Robert got involved with drugs.” Smolders paused and I knew I was now in her power.
“Robert died of a drug overdose and I vowed to myself I would do everything in my power to make sure no member of my family ever used drugs again.”
I was hooked. I swallowed hard, looked straight ahead to hide my embarrassment at my weakness in the face of this strong willed woman.
“I’d like it if you were very thorough and very strict with me.”
Again out of the corner of my eye I could see her smiling. She stroked the top of my hand with hers. The electricity of her touch ran through my body and never before had I experienced such a feeling of completeness. Smolders stood up and returned to her desk. Without any apparent signal, a woman entered the office and asked me to come with her. Without looking at Smolders, I followed this woman out. At the front desk I was given an envelope and told it contained a set of instructions as to what I would do next.
I stripped off my clothing immediately upon returning to my apartment and lubricated my sex. I thought of a time when I was about six and I was at the pool with my bitch of a mother. I had finished swimming and my mother did not want me to stay in my wet bathing suit. She had me put my white robe on and then, in front of all the other people at the pool, she slid her hand under my robe and pulled down the bathing suite until I was naked under that robe. At the age of six, this embarrassed me terribly but knew it was no use to protest as I would only be humiliated by my mother and father if I did not do as they said.
I took my lubricated half erect sex and put it between my legs. Then I lay down on the bed on my stomach and rubbed my legs together until the come spurted out of me all the while thinking of Smolders and the others and what they intended to do to me. I thought of them with that mixture of dread and anticipation which always turned me on.
Afterwards, I cleaned myself up and opened the envelop. The single piece of paper said only that I was to return on the day stipulated, that I would spend an indeterminate number of days in their office, and that I need not bring anything with me, as all would be provided.
