Carl Meertens shuffled the papers in front of him, irritably. “This is not in order,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette. “You need to arrange ahead for any such visit.”

“I know,” said Claudia Nicolosi, “but things have come up. I need some ready money soon, and my safety deposit here is the best way I can think of to get some on short notice.”

“Short notice or no, you need an appointment,” protested Carl.

“Mr. Meertens, I have given you the account paperwork. I have given you the key. It is my safety-deposit box, and I would like to see it now.”

Carl stared back at her, stonily. Nicolosi was an important client of the Third National, heiress to some Italian industrial concern or other—although in Carl’s head he’d imagined her looking more like an Italian heiress, and less of a short, rotund woman with little trace of an accent—but he wasn’t going to make any exceptions easily for her. Especially not in that unflattering dress.

“Please, Mr. Meetens,” implored Nicolosi’s assistant. “It’s very important. And I’m sure Miss Nicolosi will be ever so grateful if you could help her out.”

Well. That was a bit more like it. The other woman—Natalie, Carl had heard Nicolosi calling her earlier—looked much more the part. She was tall and blonde and leggy, and fit very nicely indeed into her slim yellow sundress. And her voice had such a pleasing sound to it when it was pleading with him.

“Well, Miss Nicolosi,” said Carl, not looking away from her assistant as he lit up another cigarette, “you are, of course, a very valued client of Third National Bank.” Natalie started to flush most gratifyingly. “It is possible that seeing as your papers are mostly in order, we might be able to arrange an access to your deposit box.”

“Thank you,” said Nicolosi, dryly, as Natalie, deeply red, shuffled a little behind her employer. He let his gaze drift back to her. “I’m very happy I can access my account.”

Pushy, entitled bitch, thought Carl, contemptuously, but kept it off his face. “Of course, Miss Nicolosi. Here are your papers back—” he handed them over to Natalie, who kept her eyes averted as her lovely manicured hand grabbed them away from him “—and I’ll keep the key with me into the vault.”

“Very well,” said Nicolosi. “Lead on.”

Carl did, leading them out of the front office and down the hallways into the depths of the bank. He was in front, of course, but the curved security mirrors in the corners let him get a good look back at Natalie as she walked briskly after him. She did have damn nice legs.

At the vault door, Carl pulled the second key out of his pocket, unlocked the main bar, and began turning the combination dial. “Both of you stay here, please.”

“I would like to—” began Nicolosi, but Carl took a little pleasure in cutting her off.

“No one but bank employees are allowed in the vault. Bank policy.” If it had been Natalie alone, he might have—the vault was rather small and the opportunity to get in close quarters with her would be tempting—but not with this Nicolosi woman. Besides, the bank had just installed some new cinerama camera security system back here, and he was a little more punctilious than usual about bank regulations around it.

“I still feel—”

“Sorry,” said Carl, unapologetically, and began to swing the vault door open.

“All right then, we’ll do it here,” said Nicolosi, and as Carl began to turn back to her in confusion She said Kneel.

Carl dropped to his knees immediately. She walked in front of him and he gasped involuntarily at the sight of Her. His cigarette, still burning, rolled off somewhere on the tiled floor.

Give Me the key, She said, and Carl almost dropped it in his frenetic eagerness to obey. She took it from his trembling hands and gave it to Natalie, who walked into the vault behind him. It was an irrelevancy at the edge of Carl’s vision, compared to looking at Her. What should I do with you?

“Whatever you desire, Mistress,” begged Carl. It was his entire purpose to be used by Her in whatever way She desired.

Yes, but how? You’ve been kind of a shit to Us.

“I didn’t realize you needed into the vault,” Carl pleaded. The idea that She might be displeased with him because of something he had done before She took control of him was horrifying.

That’s not what I meant, She said, and then turned back to Natalie, returning from the vault.

“Nicolosi’s box had some jewelry, couple of bonds and deeds, Mistress,” the assistant said, lackadaisically. “Rest of ‘em are locked.”

It’s enough for Our purposes, slave, She said, and Carl shivered a little to imagine Her calling him that. The rest of the conversation was meaningless to him—of course She could do whatever She wanted, and his only regret was that he couldn’t open the rest of the safe-deposit boxes for Her. Natalie folded the papers crisply and lay the whole haul neatly into her purse, then set off back down the hallway to the front of the bank, heels tapping rhythmically on the floor. Carl’s eyes stayed fixed on Her, in front of him.

Now, She said, and grabbed Carl’s jaw, tilting his head up. Part of him was amazed that his flesh didn’t sear on contact with Her glory. You really enjoyed checking My slave out, didn’t you.

“Yes, but I understand that she is Yours, and nothing compared to You, and Your body is perfection beyond compare, I realize now,” babbled Carl.

An expression came over Her face that he didn’t quite understand. Jealousy is not, I think, what you should be trying to soothe right now. Stand. She dragged him upright, him stumbling a little as he tried to instantly obey, rejoicing in Her close attention. Take your dick out, you piece of shit.

Carl obeyed eagerly, letting his pants and underwear drop to his ankles, eagerly letting his straining, rigid cock spring free. Her eyes didn’t even flicker to it, but he knew that he was being given an opportunity to please Her and show his servitude to Her, and he embraced it.

Start stroking. He did. Get yourself good and ready. He already was, in Her presence, but stroked on anyways. If you had been professional about this—well, We would have robbed you anyways, but this last part wouldn’t have happened. Carl was grateful for the opportunity to serve Her. You will remain here, uselessly touching yourself, until someone else arrives. Then you may come for Me.

Carl was ecstatic—She had filled him with purpose, and that purpose was to jerk off for Her! “Thank you, Mistress!” he exulted.

You don’t get to call Me Mistress, She said sharply, and then Her face slipped back into that unplaceable half-smile. And you shouldn’t thank Me until this is all over. Just remember, you fucking pig, this is your own gift to yourself.

She walked off after Natalie, and Carl found his attention drifting to the wall in front of him as he methodically edged himself. “And don’t worry about it,” said Nicolosi, from the corner of the hallway. “I’ll send a couple of your coworkers back, they’ll find you nice and quick and you can get off in front of them very soon.”

Carl couldn’t wait.