She waited anxiously, trying to slow her breathing.
‘They probably won’t take me anyway,’ she thought. ‘Who knows how many candidates they’ve had?’ She took a deeper breath. ‘But they did call me in for an interview.’ She felt her heart pounding.
She was alone in the room, a small anteroom with a desk and a chair, a floor lamp, and the straight-backed cane chair she was sitting in. She could smell the flowers, white and purple lilies, arranged in a vase on the desk.
There was an intercom on the desk too. When she’d entered the room, she’d heard it “click” and then a male voice had spoken. In a pleasantly deep voice, he’d directed her to sit down, adding that she would be given further instructions in a few minutes.
She squirmed in her chair, which seemed to get more uncomfortable every minute. She wanted to scroll through her phone, but part of the invitation to interview had included making some commitments ahead of time. She had agreed not to use her phone, or any technology, during the several hours that she would be here. She had worked hard to make it to this point of the process, and wouldn’t jeopardize her chances because she was uncomfortable and wanted to distract herself.
She was pretty sure they wanted her to be uncomfortable. He wanted her to be uncomfortable.
That thought made her squirm in a different way. She was acutely aware of her arousal, the heat between her thighs, her nipples slightly hardened. She started to cross her legs, then remembered that they had asked her not to do that either. Subtly, she thought. It wasn’t a Story of O scenario, no one had told her she needed to keep her legs open. No, they’d asked her to wait “in a posture of mindfulness.” And of course that meant both feet on the floor.
A click from the intercom got her complete attention.
“We’re ready for you now,” the voice said. “You may leave your bag or purse under the chair. You may stand up now, and remove your panties. Place them in your bag or purse and then knock on the door directly across from you”
She was already standing when he got to the part about her panties, and she froze. Really? She had to take them off NOW? ‘But you already knew,’ she chided herself, ‘that you’d have to get naked. This is just panties, you still have everything else on.’
Her skirt was relatively long, hitting her mid-calf. She glanced around the room – was there a camera somewhere? Maybe, but she didn’t see it. Carefully, trying not to expose herself more than necessary, she slipped her panties off, letting her skirt cover her again as quickly as possible. She tucked the panties into her purse, turned back toward the door, and –
Paused. She paused with her hand raised to knock. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, this is insane, am I really going to do this?’ she thought.
The intercom clicked, the male voice, with maybe a hint of laughter, said, “To knock or not to knock, that is the question. Whether tis wiser…”
but before he could finish, she knocked on the door, firmly, three times. The voice laughed.
The door opened. It was dim in the room, she couldn’t see more than a few feet beyond the door. And a woman blocked her entrance, smiling. “Welcome,” she said. “Congratulations on making it this far. Put this on, please.”
She handed the girl a blindfold.
The girl, whose name was Naomi, and who was not young enough to be called a girl in most social circles, took the blindfold, feeling a bit befuddled. Her eyes were adjusting to the dim lights and she thought she could see a man, no, maybe two or three men, seated in a semi-circle further in the room. She did not want to wear the blindfold.
But the woman who had answered the door, Sonya, quickly guided her in putting it on. It was some kind of stretchy material and fit quite tightly. Naomi was in complete darkness now. Sonya took her arm and pulled her a few steps further in the room, and Naomi heard the door close behind her.
“The candidates are not allowed to wear clothes in here,” Sonya said, “So I’m going to take them off for you. Do you agree to this?”
Naomi’s mouth was suddenly so dry, she didn’t think she could talk, but she knew that if she didn’t agree to this, she’d be eliminated from the competition. She licked her lips and managed to stammer, “Ye- yes, I agree.”
“Ma’am,” said Sonya, “You may call me ‘Ma’am.’ Try this: ‘Yes, Ma’am, please take my clothes off.'”
Naomi wanted desperately to tear off the blindfold and run. But she also wanted desperately to do this thing she had started, to be the winning candidate and be allowed to stay.
So her voice was low and shaky, but she said, “Yes, Ma’am, please take my clothes off.”
“Good girl,” said Sonya. Naomi’s top was a loose knit and Sonya slid it off over her head easily. Naomi was wearing a lacy bra and Sonya tugged it down so the nipples were exposed. They were already half hard, but Sonya rubbed and tweaked them until they were fully extended. Then she unhooked the bra from the back, and removed it completely.
“There you go,” said Sonya, “We’ll make sure they stay nice and hard now.”
Naomi blushed with embarrassment. Only the skirt was left, and it took Sonya only a moment to tug it down, leaving it pooled around Naomi’s ankles.
Naomi moved her arms as if to cover herself.
Sonya laughed, “No, hands behind your neck, please.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Naomi raised her arms, clasped her hands behind her neck. Once her hands were in place, Sonya said, “Elbows back please. Check your posture.”
And something inside Naomi fell into place. Blindfolded, naked, exposing herself to people she didn’t know, accepting dominance from some strange woman, she felt something loosen inside herself.
“Yes, Ma’am” she said. She pulled her elbows back, which thrust her breasts further out. She shifted her body to open her legs a bit, not too much, just shoulder width apart. She felt Sonya’s hand slip between her thighs, stroking and caressing her swollen outer lips.
Naomi shivered with pleasure, a slight smile on her lips. All she had to do now was obey.