Employment difficulties
Irina was genuinely nervous before the interview. As nervous as she had been back in her university exam days or when she went to get her very first job. Actually, it was about employment now too, though just a couple of months ago she couldn't have imagined she would be so desperately in need of work.
For the last several years, she had held the position of director of the Seversk Registration Chamber and had been quite satisfied with herself and her life, until the unforeseen happened. Irina got overly carried away with intricate schemes involving the budgetary funds allocated to the registration chamber. The temptation to slightly adjust
some expenses upwards, to pocket the resulting difference, proved too great. Unfortunately, her machinations eventually came to light. The scandal was hushed up, but she had to part ways with her job at the registration chamber. And difficult times began. Seversk was too small a town.The demand for lawyers turned out to be quite low, and for lawyers with a tarnished reputation—as it turned out, rumors spread too fast—even lower. At first, Irina applied to state and municipal structures, then to private companies—but everywhere she was refused in one form or another. Neither independent searching nor turning to friends and acquaintances helped. After two months of unsuccessful attempts, Irina was close to despair. When manipulating the budget, she had tried to be moderate, sincerely believing it was the key to success.
But now, her former moderation turned against her. She hadn't profited enough to ensure a comfortable existence for the rest of her days, and besides, a certain portion of the funds had to be returned to the budget. Now her savings were running out, and she saw no way out of the situation. Irina had almost resigned herself to the thought that she would have to register at the employment center with the prospect of eventually getting a job as a saleswoman or cleaner when her old friend Anastasia called. This lively, red-haired, full-lipped lady had worked for many years at the registration chamber under Irina's supervision, and after her dismissal, she took the director's chair.
"Hi, how are you?" she asked when the former director answered the call.
"How? Well, as usual!" Irina replied with a nervous chuckle.
"Listen, Irin, I have a matter for you... My old acquaintance is opening a branch of his company here. And he's putting his son in as director. They're hiring staff now and they just need a head of the legal department. See where I'm going with this?"
"Yes, of course. But won't the same problems arise as with the others?"
"Well..." Nastasya drawled thoughtfully. "I can't promise, of course, but their director is a good boy and, most importantly, he has a thing for older women. Charm him—and the job is yours."
"How old is he?"
"M... Twenty-five, I think. Well, you don't have to sleep with him. Although, if you really want to... He's not bad, muscular."
"Oh, come on," laughed Irina, for whom even a glimmer of hope was enough to restore her good mood. "I'm a decade and a half older than him."
"Just kidding, just kidding," her friend giggled into the phone. "So, what do you think? Are you interested?"
"Of course, Nastya, thank you so much. I was starting to think I wouldn't find anything at all."
"It's okay, we'll manage. Then write down the time and address. And I'll warn them."
And now Irina was getting ready for the interview at the Seversk branch of CJSC "Luterna Magica." That morning she had been to the hairdresser and got a new hairstyle (short cuts always suited her). She took a shower. Applied strict, neat makeup (foundation, classic black mascara, after thinking, lined her lips with a pencil and colored them with a muted lipstick). Her wrists, neck, and behind her ears were marked with her favorite perfume.
She liked what she saw. Irina's appearance was quite striking—probably due to mixed blood (father Latvian, mother Tatar). She twirled a little in front of the mirror, stuck out her hip, put her hand on her side, languidly rolled her eyes. She giggled at herself—a grown woman, after all...
He turned out to be a very young man indeed, whose well-developed musculature couldn't be hidden by his expensive suit. The office was furnished, it seemed to Irina, a bit strangely—a large leather sofa against one wall and a desk pushed right up against the other. She herself was offered a chair standing exactly in the center of the room, while the director, who introduced himself as Anton Mikhailovich, comfortably settled on the sofa.
Irina sat like a schoolgirl, palms on her pressed-together knees. The nervousness and unusual setting made her feel a certain discomfort. After flipping through the papers handed to her, Anton carelessly tossed them onto the sofa next to him. Several standard questions followed about education, experience, and desired working conditions. Irina answered cautiously, trying to gauge how much the interviewer knew about the sad end of her career at the registration chamber. Judging by the fact that he didn't ask for details about the reasons for her dismissal from her last position, he knew enough.
"Very good," the interviewer simply radiated benevolence. "I won't hide it, I really like you, Irina Uldisovna. But there are still a couple of questions."
"Yes, of course." Irina smiled joyfully. Could it really have gone successfully? And so easily?
"Could you get on all fours?"
"What?" Irina asked in amazement. She leaned towards the interviewer, mechanically brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, as if wanting to hear better.
The interviewer remained absolutely serene.
"Please get on all fours right here." He pointed with his finger, indicating a spot about a meter in front of him, his voice sounding as if it were a completely mundane request.
"With your back to me."
Irina's thoughts raced chaotically. Asking again would be stupid and useless. She found herself in such a situation for the first time in her life, but she understood the essence of what was happening clearly. If she didn't comply, she would simply be denied the job. If she did comply... she would be used. On the other hand, what did she have to lose? At forty, Irina hadn't been an innocent girl for a long time, and she was never one for prudishness, quite the opposite. And she really needed the job. And the interviewer didn't seem like a freak; it was even flattering that he liked her so much. Irina bit her lip. Well, she'd have to endure this too. Having made her decision, she rose from the chair and, standing at the indicated spot, slowly turned her back to the interviewer and got down on all fours.
"I hope they mop the floors regularly," an ironic thought flashed. Despite her resolve, Irina was trembling slightly, a treacherous weakness felt in her body, and she unconsciously tried to overcome the agitation and shame with a sense of humor.
"Very good, Irina Uldisovna." Anton approached her. A hand rested just above Irina's lower back, and she felt a demanding pressure. "Arch your back. Thaaaat's it... Excellent. Now your legs." His right hand was still on her back, while his left hand unceremoniously slipped under her skirt, spreading her thighs. "Need to spread them. There! Excellent."
Irina unquestioningly obeyed all manipulations, assuming the required pose. The narrow skirt appetizingly hugged her protruding buttocks. For some time, Anton silently admired this sight. Standing like that, like some kind of salesgirl, was uncomfortable for Irina in every sense, but that wasn't the thought bothering her most right now. The former director of the Seversk Registration Chamber hadn't had a man in quite a while, and the touches to the inner surface of her thighs unexpectedly echoed with a sweet ache in her lower abdomen. Feeling her vulva pulsating and moistening, she unconsciously swayed her rear and licked her lips. "Just fuck me already," she wanted to say, but the image of a businesswoman, ingrained over many years, didn't allow it.
Whether noticing her movements or having enjoyed the view enough, the interviewer decisively pulled her skirt up to her waist and pulled her thong down to mid-thigh. At this, Irina, to her own shame, almost sighed with relief. The interviewer casually slapped her labia, slightly spreading them with two fingers. Touched the tender, already beginning to moisten core.
"Don't change your posture, Irina Uldisovna," he ordered, noticing she had relaxed.
Irina obediently stuck her rear out again, causing her now bare buttocks to part, revealing the wrinkled ring of her anus. The interviewer's hands gathered the halves of her rear, roughly squeezing and spreading them even further.
"You have a nice ass, Irina Uldisovna. Firm."
"Thank you," Irina answered hoarsely from the long silence and the sensations she was experiencing.
"Don't mention it." Anton's finger ran along the tender skin of the cleft between her buttocks and lingered near the bump of her anus, circling it, then lightly pressing on it.
Irina stood with her mouth open.
"Do you take it in the ass, Irina Uldisovna?" The pressure of the finger increased slightly.
"Yes..." Irina exhaled submissively, already preparing for what was about to happen. "Rarely."
Overcoming the uncertain resistance of the sphincter, the interviewer's index finger began to sink in, spreading the walls of her rectum. Irina gasped softly, thrusting her rear further into the air and spreading her legs a bit more.
"Apparently, not so rarely," the man noted with slight irony in his voice. Irina swallowed that.
Without any lubricant, the finger still went in with noticeable difficulty. Then Anton spat on Irina's butt, slightly twisted his finger, moistening the sphincter, and continued the movement again. Inserting the finger to its full length, he twisted it, then began slowly pulling it out. Irina lowered her head and let out a quiet, stifled moan. Her youth fell in the wild nineties, and it was then that she tried many amusing things, including anal sex.
"I asked you to remain still," he remarked impassively.
"I... I'm sorry," mumbled the stunned Irina.
"Good," he extracted the finger, shiny with saliva, from her rectum and, holding it out towards Irina, ordered, "Lick it."
Irina wondered whether she should comply with this demand or show that she wasn't some cheap slut after all, and immediately received another stinging slap.
"How long will I have to wait, esteemed lady?"
To hell with it, thought Irina, I've already gone too far. She made a move, turning towards the interviewer and simultaneously sitting on the floor—that would make it easier to lean towards the outstretched hand, but she didn't have time. She was rewarded with another slap, not just one—three blows followed one after another with impressive speed.
"Listen, you!.." exclaimed the outraged woman. She was, of course, ready to give herself and understood what erotic games were, but it was damn painful! She also felt a certain humiliation, standing in an absurd pose with her bare rear in front of a fully dressed man she had met less than an hour ago. Finally, she was absolutely sure that this time she had done nothing to deserve being slapped, as she was simply doing as told. But she didn't have time to express all this complex range of feelings and thoughts.
"I did not allow you to change your posture, Irina Uldisovna," Anton replied just as completely calmly. And added instructively, "You need to learn corporate discipline, otherwise failures will pursue you everywhere, as in your previous job."
The woman, flushed crimson, lowered her head. He was right, and she had nowhere to go. Returning to her previous position, Irina took the newly offered finger into her mouth and thoroughly sucked it.
"You see, you are quite capable of meaningful actions, Irina Uldisovna. That's good."
Watched by Irina, who was guessing what to expect next, he walked over to the desk.
"By the way, in the future, when I express my approval to you in any form, I expect you to thank me for it. Do you understand, Irina Uldisovna?"
"Yes... I understand."
She still experienced conflicting feelings. But naturally endowed with good self-control, over the years of civil service she had also learned to please superiors to achieve her own goals. Moreover, despite all the absurdity and shame of the situation she found herself in, Irina continued to feel growing sexual arousal. Her vagina and anus trembled in anticipation of the invasion of a male member. So the need for sex, paradoxically merging with the need for work, made Irina stay on all fours instead of leaving and slamming the door.
"However, for the earlier repeated willfulness, a penalty should be imposed on you, Irina Uldisovna," the interviewer continued meanwhile. From a desk drawer, he extracted a dog paddle with a long, wide slapper and examined it, holding it vertically. "I think for the first time we'll get by with just five strokes. Any objections, Irina Uldisovna?"
The last question sounded sharp. The interviewer turned to the woman and watched her carefully, slapping the paddle against his palm.
"N... no..." Irina answered more bewildered than frightened.
"Good," he slapped his thigh as if calling a dog. "Come here! And turn your beautiful ass towards me."
Taught by bitter experience, Irina made the necessary journey without rising from all fours. The panties still dangling on her legs hindered movement and eventually slid down to her knees, but she didn't dare either pull them up or take them off completely. Anton watched with a slight smirk as she turned her backside to him.
"Excellent, Irina Uldisovna! You're not so hopelessly stupid."
"Thank you," she replied, feeling spat upon.
The first blow of the paddle on her buttocks struck her like lightning.
"Ow!" Irina exclaimed involuntarily, her eyes wide open.
Never, even in childhood, had she been spanked, and she didn't expect it to hurt so much. Even the slaps she received earlier were nothing in comparison. Then came the second blow, making Irina cry out again. After the third, tears spurted from her eyes. The mascara will run, she thought, and was surprised herself that she could think about makeup now. But after the fourth blow, such thoughts vanished from her head.
Her rear literally burned with fire, and Irina suddenly became afraid that such a spanking couldn't pass without a trace. There would definitely be abrasions, if not indelible scars. She desperately wanted to jump up—first of all, to examine her rear. Like any pretty woman, Irina was tender about her appearance. Finally, with the fifth blow, it all ended. Irina broke into a sweat, a tear rolled down her cheek. She felt broken, physically and mentally exhausted.
The interviewer looked with satisfaction at the former director's buttocks, shining like a red spotlight.
"You know, Irina Uldisovna," he said, "I have a dog, a wonderful Labrador bitch. You whine exactly like her!.."
The woman remained silent, depressed, not knowing how to react to this statement.
"Here's what... Give me a voice, Irina Uldisovna!"
The amazed and uncomprehending Irina looked over her shoulder at her tormentor, who began impatiently slapping the paddle against his palm.
"Come on, Irina Uldisovna, voice. Voice, bitch!"
A faint guess dawned on her. Overcoming the remnants of her self-esteem, not really understanding why herself, she opened her mouth and in a weak, fal