The Perfect Applicant: Part 3

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When the elevator began its ascent from the first floor, Jennifer Grey was feeling a little unsteady on her feet. By the time its seemingly rapid climb had put ten floors behind her, she had sunk to her stockinged knees, black spots speckling her vision. And when the doors opened at the 42nd floor, her prescribed destination, she was no longer possessed of the consciousness to appreciate the end of her ride.

Allison Taxton peered appreciatively at the crumpled young woman from her newly-taken position between the doors. She pursed her wet, red lips in a soft whistle. Lucky for you that I am not one who favors the feast to the hunt. Soon there would be time to gorge herself on the full-breasted, tightly-muscled girl before her. But for now...the preparations.

She stepped quickly, purposefully from the elevator, into the cubicle-laden office space behind her. Gesturing to two young ladies, short-skirted blondes, gartered stockings evident, she chose her words carefully: "Girls, you must show Ms. Grey to my office via the scenic route. Consider during the trip that she has not yet seen the breadth of this place." One of them smiling, the other looking lustful, they nonetheless nodded their compliance, and, with practiced ease, hefted Jennifer by hands and ankles and maneuvered her deftly towards the other end of the level.

Allison waited until they had rounded a darkened corner, counted to ten, and then pursued, her four-inch heels clicking a steady pace across the floor. In her mind ticked an insistent clock. They had six minutes: six were all that the mind could conceivably discount, in disorienting circumstances, all that would not be missed when consciousness was renewed. They would be done in four.

When she opened the doors to her office, the blondes were moving with surgical precision. Jennifer's blazer had been doffed, was hanging neatly from a nearby peg, and her creamy blouse was coming along just as quickly. Allison smiled as Jennifer's breasts, pear-shaped, large, and firm, swung heavily from the confines of her just-removed bra. When Ms. Grey's entire torso was stripped, one of the two girls looked at Allison and smiled. "Not bugged today, Mistress."

"Excellent." This just kept getting better. "Quickly now, strip her fully and proceed."

Giggling, one girl moved slightly aside, and, withdrawing a transparent packet and metallic instruments from her purse, began to fiddle with the various lacy articles that were being handed her as Jennifer's violation progressed. Allison, hands folded behind her back, began to circle the scene, taking it all in. At this point, Ms. Grey's thinly cut skirt was being worked down her long, grey-hosed legs, and Allison relished the lack of panties under the hose. Allison knew that said something about a woman. "You, my pretty pet, will be such a willful slut when I am done with you." The stripee said nothing, of course, and the stripper, eager to please, quickly began to roll the hosiery from her legs.

Allison stopped, fixing her with a frigid glance: "Be careful not to run them, bitch. Ms. Grey must never be compelled to consider the circumstances of these senseless moments. She will wake, and all will be well with her world." Allison renewed her pace, noting the dampening condition of her own hose, white today, with a sheer, high-cut panty. "She will not know, for instance, that three of her own co-workers here at HSA," Allison ran her hands across the kneeling girls' hair as she passed, "have seen her tits and pussy. She will not know that one of those three," she hovered a bit about the girl with the instruments, slipping a stocking foot in and out of her black shoe, "has meticulously placed tiny, remote, sensory inducers, within specific articles of her clothing. She will not know that, despite their size, each is capable of soliciting a bodily reaction equal to a vibrator in the cunt." A cruel chuckle. "She will not know that these little wonders are, in fact, nearly transparent, especially against darker clothing. . ." She placed index and middle fingers together, and began to lightly massage circles across her own crotch, over her skirt and hose. "Which, she will know, is what we require in our dress code."

She practically purred then, and continued to stroke, ceasing her pace about the room. Allison knew that she was distracting herself, that she should be focusing, but every time her eyes wandered across the nude woman below, she became more and more aware of the ache between her legs, the pulsing, moistening need.

Her servants though, worked on regardless. 3 minutes had passed, and more than anything in the world, they feared their mistress' wrath should 3 more transpire before the job's consummation. The tiny plastic slivers were placed quickly but accurately, wherever in Jennifer's clothing an erogenous zone might find itself. Three were in each cup of the black, lacy bra: one on each underside, where the breasts' weight would be borne, one along the top of the cup, where a lover's gentle kiss might be planted, and the last along the centers, where Jennifer's soft brown nipples would likely rest. Additionally, several were placed with rapid precision in Jennifer's silken gray hosiery: one in each reinforced toe and in each sole, one along the back of where each calf would be delicately encased, and two in the darker gray panty itself, one in front panel, along the seam, and one opposite it, in the back. "We're ready, Mistress," said the girl making the placements.

"Hold for just a moment." Allison was a creature of control, but even she could be beguiled under the right conditions. Still applying pressure to her womanhood, she knelt over her naked, dozing prey, and with all the restraint she could summon, limited herself to a brief kiss on each of Jennifer's erect nipples.

The moan took them all aback. Allison shot up, her eyes wide. The powder. . .the powder was supposed to keep the victim utterly unconscious of all stimuli. All stimuli for the allotted time. It had never failed. Unless. . .it had not all been transferred. Caroline Holcomb. Allison smiled appreciatively. 'Did YOU disobey me?' The prospect of it delighted her; she'd imagined that Caroline had lost all use as an entertainment piece months ago.

'Two minutes left now, if we are lucky.' She snapped her fingers quickly, and the girls rushed to dress the unconscious Jennifer, pulling on pantyhose, shoes, bra, etc. Everything must be perfect, every fold and tuck needed to match the condition of the apparel before it was removed. The girls knew this, and satisfied the requirement as quickly as possible. Still, the seconds ticked on.

Finally it was done. Again hoisting Jennifer by ankles and wrists, they rushed her to the elevator doors, which had been held ajar. Jennifer gave little whimpers and stirrings during this time, but remained blessedly asleep. Allison followed, her nerve unchallenged.

Jennifer was propped up in a lean against the elevator rail, and one of her shoes, which had fallen off during the transit, was replaced upon her stocking foot by Allison, as the two little whores who had aided scampered away to less public corners. Allison then made one final evaluation of her victim, and, noting that everything was in place, stepped back behind the closing doors.

Jennifer shook her head from side to side. Elevator rides up that many floors always made her disoriented. Nervously, she checked her watch. God, I didn't think I was THAT late. As the elevator bounced to a stop, a small chime rang, and the doors slid open to reveal Ms. Allison Taxton, dressed immaculately, and tapping a foot with impatience.

"Ms. Taxton, I'm sorry. I just got caught up in things and lost track of time."

Ms. Taxton seemed to consider her excuse, a pretty weak on admittedly. Then she smiled pleasantly and approached the new hire with an extended hand. "Things happen, Ms. Grey. Welcome to HSA."

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