Jerome felt nervous when he pushed the button in the elevator that would take him to the floor where her office was. Severine St Nicolas. She was the HR manager and he had never spoken to her in person, he had only seen her during corporate presentations, side by side with the CEO and the financial manager. A beautiful woman who dressed in elegant suits, untouchable and far away on that stage. Until an email message had invited him to a "management assessment" in her office, with her corporate signature, so here he was, two minutes early for the appointment when the elevator doors opened. 

This floor was all lush carpet, white walls and wooden doors. The walls were adorned with framed marketing artwork. Jerome didn't know why he had been selected to do this assessment or what it would entail. As far as he knew, he was just a white collar worker, and he was in no position to ascend to a management position. Jerome and his colleagues sat in their cubicles, crunching numbers in spreadsheets, chasing and correcting small errors made by the people at the Orders and Shipping department. This floor was so very different, there were only roomy offices and meeting rooms behind those wooden doors. No cubicles, no water coolers, no whiteboards. And it was so quiet here with the carpet muffling his footsteps and the closed doors.

Jerome stopped at a kitchen corner, where a woman in a lavender skirt and jacket was making coffee from a fancy Italian machine. It was the only noise here. Was she an assistant or a barista? For a moment, he just watched her work, until she served foamy espresso into a tiny glass cup and put it on a shiny metal saucer. She then started to pour mineral water from a bottle in the fridge into fancy crystal whisky glasses.

"Excuse me," Jerome said as he leaned against the countertop. "I'm looking for the office of Ms St Nicolas."

"Right on time." The woman put all three drinks on a tray and handed it to him. "It's the corner office on the right there." She pointed down the hall. "Good luck."

Afraid to spill any of the drinks, Jerome slowly shuffled towards the door she had indicated to him, and when he arrived, carefully took the tray into one hand so he could knock.

"Come in."

When he opened the heavy door, it became clear that the office was even more spacious than he had expected. Shelves along the walls held meticulously labelled binders, reference works and elegant bookends. Ms St Nicolas sat at a long, heavy wooden desk, with her back to a gorgeous view of the city harbour. Her desk was empty but for her computer, a notepad with a shiny metal pen lying on top of it, and an empty crystal glass just like the ones Jerome had on his tray. He closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment. It was almost ten feet to the desk, he could still spill the coffee, he realised, clenching his teeth.

Ms St Nicolas beckoned without looking at him, her eyes on the computer screen as she typed something, every keystroke audible in the large, silent office. Jerome slowly approached the desk and carefully put the tray down on the corner, next to the empty glass. The desk was suspiciously clean, no stray printouts or office supplies anywhere. Her neatly manicured hands danced over the keyboard and her lips moved as she typed, showing a hint of tongue. She was incredibly beautiful close up. It was hard to believe he was really here in her office.

As soon as Jerome realised he was staring at her immaculate white blouse and her long hair falling over her shoulders, he looked away at the seats facing the desk. They looked like they belonged in a lounge with their velvet upholstery and the large armrests. The tall windows let in the daylight from outside but the office building was so tall that it was impossible for anyone to look into this building from the outside. It gave Jerome a strange feeling of isolation.

Ms St Nicolas rose from her desk chair and walked around the desk to greet him with a handshake. "Welcome, Jerome. It's good to meet you."

Flustered by the way she suddenly walked up to him, almost pushing him backwards against one of the seats, Jerome replied: "Thank you for inviting me here… uh… Should I call you Severine?"

"You may call me Miss." She gave him a piercing look as she let go of his hand. "Sit down, and stay there."

Jerome's body complied and sank down into the seat before his mind had quite taken the time to process her words. Blushing and breathless, he looked up at her as she leaned on the armrest of his chair, finding it impossible not to stare at her breasts from this position.

"Didn't you wonder why I invited you here?" Her hip, though covered in smooth dress slacks, touched his arm, and she leaned towards him with her hand on the back of the chair. She was coming so dangerously close, it made him stutter.

"I did… But I don't know… uh… I mean…" Jerome tugged at his shirt collar.

She licked her lips before she spoke, never breaking eye-contact. "I have an opening and you're the man I want."

Sweating now, Jerome had to will himself not to interpret her words as sexual innuendo. "I am?" He laughed nervously, shifting in the chair, trying desperately not to touch her inappropriately. "I didn't think you even knew who I am or what I do." 

"I saw you at the corporate basketball game." Her hand moved, touching his shirt collar and then resting on his chest. Her eyes looked dreamy for a moment, as if she was remembering what he looked like in a jersey and shorts. Then she rose to her feet and walked over to the desk to pick up the cup of espresso. 

Jerome took a deep breath, not sure whether he was relieved she had left his personal space or not. He felt paralysed by her presence, afraid to do or say anything inappropriate and ruin his chances for this unexpected… promotion? Even though he wasn't yet sure what it would entail. 

Sipping her espresso, she stared back at him. "I saw you there and I decided to go through your file. You're an intriguing man, Jerome."

He swallowed, not sure what to reply, or whether he should say anything at all. Her silhouette was breathtaking in the daylight falling in through those windows. And her blouse looked almost sheer now. 

She finished the cup and put it back down. "I may have collected some footage from other corporate meetings and parties to see more of you," she said looking down at her coffee cup. "And I liked what I saw…"

As he became cognizant of what she was saying, Jerome frowned, his mouth falling open. "You've been spying on me?"

She leaned on the desk, smiling at him, giving him a smouldering seductive look. "You should be flattered. I'm offering you a great opportunity."

In the back of his mind, Jerome could hear alarm bells, and a feeling of dread tightened his throat. He rose from the chair and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Miss. There must be some kind of misunderstanding… I shouldn't be here." It was the only excuse he could think of to say. No matter how powerful and attractive this lady was, this felt wrong, and he wanted out.

When he tried to walk past her towards the door, her hand grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. His face burned as he reluctantly looked at her. Only to be immediately slapped across the cheek. It took his breath away. Jerome shuddered and froze up, his eyes closed.

"You are exactly where you should be." She drew up close to him, their bodies touching, her breath on his neck, and her hand grabbed his erection through the fabric of his suit. "A part of you knows this, doesn't it?"

The sudden rush of arousal was intoxicating. Jerome's head was swimming, while his body was petrified. He couldn't move a single muscle, not even open his eyes. Her hand on his crotch locked him in place.

"Isn't it funny?" She whispered in his ear, her lips brushing his cheek. "As the blood rushes to your cock, it's like it drains your thoughts from your mind, making you lightheaded and mindless.The harder your cock grows, the harder it becomes to form a thought. Until your cock just becomes too hard to think at all." 

Jerome's eyes rolled up into his skull and he gasped helplessly. 

Her lips trailed kisses over his cheek and jaw until she reached his mouth. Her hand languidly stroked the bulge in his pants. "Doesn't it feel wonderful to be so aroused, open and empty, my dear?"

Jerome could feel his eyes blink and move, but he had no control over it. Over any part of his body. His mouth opened and he gasped: "Yes, Miss."

"The more your cock grows under my touch, the harder it becomes to think, the emptier your mind becomes. And now that your mind is so open and empty, my words fill your head."

A shudder ran from his cock up through his spine. "Yes, Miss."

"Your cock is too hard to think for yourself. Let me tell you what to think."

Involuntarily, his body jerked, almost like an attempt to grind against her. "Yes, Miss."

"This need you feel, in your body, in your cock, this burning need, is your need to surrender completely to me. That is all you can think about now, isn't it?" As she continued to stroke him, her other hand moved up over his back to grasp the hair on the back of his head and hold it firmly.

"Yes, Miss." He moaned. He could feel his eyes open, but they were still rolled up and he could see nothing.

Her grip on his hair held firmly, while her other hand stopped massaging and just held his throbbing cock tightly. "Remember this. Repeat it in your mind. Surrendering to me gives you sexual pleasure. Surrender brings you pleasure. Repeat it."

He gasped. "Surrender brings me pleasure."

"That's right," she cooed. "Surrender brings you pleasure. If you feel any sexual pleasure right now, that is because you are surrendering to me. And if you feel that pleasure increase in any way, you know deep down that it's caused by your increasing surrender to me. So submit. Surrender your mind as you have surrendered your body. And you will feel the pleasure grow accordingly." 

Her hand opened his zipper and her fingers penetrated his underwear to touch the swollen head of his cock. The skin of her fingers was so soft, and there was a hint of fingernails scraping the sensitive edge. 

Weakly, Jerome groaned. 

"Why does it feel so good?" Her lips brushed his cheek and her breath was hot.

"Surrender brings me pleasure," he uttered, slurring his words.

"Indeed. If you are feeling pleasure right now, it must be because you are surrendering deeper and deeper to my will." Her hand let go of his hair and rested on his back now. She stepped away from him, but her hand remained there on his back. "You want to surrender more, don't you?"

"Yesss…" The word escaped his lips before he could even form a thought.

"Go down on your knees and open your pants." Her hand on his back pushed gently. "Display your cock, as a sign of your surrender."

He could feel the thick carpet against his knees and ankles as his hands worked to open his pants. The tip of his cock touched his shirt and his hand instinctively started to stroke up and down.

Her hand moved to his shoulder. "Why does it feel so good, Jerome?"

"Surrender brings me pleasure." He groaned, his eyes still closed.

Her voice drifted down to him, soothing and soft. "Your hand is obeying my will, deepening your surrender. Let every stroke take you deeper and deeper, giving yourself more and more to me. Say it again, Jerome. Repeat it while you stroke for me."

"Surrender brings me pleasure." Jerome faded in and out of consciousness as his hand stroked and his body shuddered, coming closer and closer to total surrender. Pleasure pulsated through him as his mind simply shut down.

In hindsight, he didn't remember how long that assessment had lasted. It wasn't important to remember it completely. He was happy with his new job as assistant to Miss St Nicolas. Whenever he obeyed and did all his tasks properly, she would let him surrender again.