It was bound to happen sooner or later; maybe fate took mercy on me by leaving me at the mercy of my Mistress for so long with a light workload that UnEng is used to leaving me.

For a bit of background information, I work at Universal Engines, or UnEng as the employers like to put it. I started with the company around the time of its inception, and was placed in an engine development position. My accounting minor from college led me to assist in some of the corporate finances when we were still small enough. Always trying to do cutting-edge stuff in the industry, moderate workloads were the minimum effort required. Once we got big enough to be recognized by other competitors as a viable threat, some guys I know ended up needing something like Betty Ford treatment after a while, for those who weren't passionate enough or didn’t' feel like roughing it in an unsure job market. My threshold for stress and tolerating corporate bs has probably kept me employed as long as it has, but I got something better out of Mistress's "treatment". Betty Ford results usually mean recovery, Mistress's treatments was more revitalization. Feeling refreshed at the workplace is rare, but I took as much advantage of it as I could, able to avoid glossing over small details in reports. I had no idea it would lead me to what I found.

Some true genius work from some of UnEng's brightest put us on the verge of a foothold in a new wave of environmental technologies; an engine that could improve on performance of, and support most automakers with "going green" electric cars. As optimistic as things were looking, it was clear the workload would have to be shared, and some capital support was needed too. This new project that got me moved out to San Francisco in the first place was a big enough deal; certainly big enough that UnEng employees coming from Philadelphia were camped out at Trode Electronics home city, working in their offices. I was surprised it was my boss, Sam Penn's initiative to establish a joint venture with our main competitor, as my supervisor's usual idea of forward meant keeping low and waiting for someone to slip up. I had to give him credit for how risky yet profitable the potential payoff sounded, but those who weren't purely thinking dollar signs thought about what whom stood to gain more, and worse yet who might be taken over as a result. Anyone who knows the engineering field probably shat themselves when they found out UnEng and Trode were working together on something. But for an engine that could serve as a blueprint for any cars looking to go green for the next 50 years, money made things happen.

I had dual responsibilities on the project, making sure we weren't getting screwed on the deal, and checking minute schematic details. Something I wasn't supposed to find accidentally found its way to my desk. Needless to say, I spent long hours looking for the 'it' again somewhere else in corporate paperwork, like an addictive puzzle that wouldn't let me rest until I solved it. Add to that the paperwork version of "hell week" and I wouldn't have cared if I ended up pulling a thread that unraveled the project altogether.

I hadn't talked to Mistress in almost a week, and hoped it would be longer so I wouldn't have to explain how I'd easily missed two nights of sleep and ready to work on a third or fourth if need be.

"Boy, upstairs must really love you. Look at all the bounty they've blessed you with."

One of my neighbors from the apartment had walked in. I had few friends working in this company, and unfortunately though he could be an asshole at times, he was the closest thing I had to being on constant speaking terms with someone.

"Yeah, lucky me." I'd hoped the sarcasm in my voice would somehow say that now wasn't the best time.

"Did you even ask for more time to deal with all this?"

"You'd ask that, knowing management?"

He couldn't argue with that, but it felt like he wanted to bring up more, or something else entirely since he was still there.

"Not to insult you or anything, but how can you stand to be you right now man? Honestly with all the bullshit that goes on, you're the only guy I know that has a mock-up letter of resignation but won't use it, even when it feels like they're daring you to."

"Exactly what are you getting at?"

"Honestly, I'm just hoping you're not retreating here to not have to deal with the sep-"

I looked in his direction; I must've looked angry the way he kind of backed off and stopped mid-sentence. I was more confused than anything. Before I could ask him to complete his sentence, he started backing out of the office.

"Ok, ok, guess I crossed the line there. Just....sorry man, I'll see you later."

Much as I was curious in what he wanted to say, I just went back to work knowing I could ask him later. It was going to be hard enough getting the work on a deadline finished, plus my extra inquiry. My cellphone started ringing; I noticed the number and wanted more than anything to answer my phone. Just looking at it made me sigh. I really wanted to talk to Her, even in the possibility of Her whisking away the world that weighed heavily on me then. Problem was I knew Her words wouldn't kill this workload by itself. For the first time, I ignored Her.

It was around midnight of that day, or the next day that I'd delved more into the extra inquiry, and maybe 2/3 into the mandatory work. I'd gotten deep enough into it to realize what might really be going on. My boss was in bed with our competitor; it made too much sense really.

He was privy to most of the dealings with our partnering company; it gave everyone involved a heavy-enough workload that most wouldn't even have time to think about it. It was a worst-case scenario come true, we would assist our rival in acquiring technological advances worth millions and millions in the long-run, and we'd be screwed royally out of the deal. Of course, the proof I needed to confirm this would have to come from people just as high a position as Penn, who'd either have to be dumb, deaf, and blind, or in on it as well. When all would be said and done, my bastard of a boss would most certainly have a high position in Trode Electric waiting for him, and UnEng would take a massive hit for resources spent, nearly zero revenue gained, and being beat out in the market place with exclusive rights.

At that point, I didn't have the guff to call it fact, and resigned to finishing the mandatory paper work. I was so tired at that point, when the phone rang, I decided to not even check to see who was calling.

"Hello?"

"Aww, my Subject sounds so very sleepy tonight. How lucky you are that your Mistress can help tuck you in bed tonight," she spoke sweetly.

She made it sound so tempting; it took a great deal to fight something I wanted for something I had slight trouble giving a damn about.

"No Mistress, please. Now isn't the best time."

"What's wrong," she asked with a concern that broke away from the temptress tone she'd used seconds ago.

"It's work; I'm pretty bombarded right now, and have a lot to finish before I can even think about bed, if I can afford it. I know it might be out of place for a Subject to ask, but may I take a rain check on that mental tucking in?"

There was silence for a few minutes on her end, followed by "how many nights sleep have you missed already?"

I was taken aback for a minute, not just in how she knew that, but what my response was to be. I didn't want to lie, especially since she could get the truth out of me, and the truth wouldn't have made either of us feel any better.

"This isn't healthy. I know your work is important to you, but I'd rather not have my Subject lose necessary sleep, especially over a company who works him like a rented mule."

"I know Mistress, I even agree with you, but I don't really have a choice now."

She'd stopped herself from saying something before she sighed deeply, and there was another minute of long silence. It didn't take her long before she found the words she wanted.

"You're right, you don't. Just listen to my voice for a moment..."

"No, please, I told you I can't do this right now." My voice went up as I let myself get a little angry. Even if it was in my interests, I couldn't believe she was taking this road with me.

"It really isn't wise to raise your voice to me like this Subject, nor is it the time to think you have a say in this anymore."

"Your spell isn't going to get this work done. I think-"

"You think whatever I tell you to," she interrupted in a sharp whisper.

I was so tired then that it didn't even register in the first few seconds that she induced light trance from a trigger. Half a minute later I could already feel the world getting a little blurry. Internally, a tingle ran up my spine and in no time a felt a displacement of my mind from my body. She kept speaking her words incomprehensibly clear to the floating part of me. I could barely feel my mouth moving, responding to something.

"Where are you now?" was the only thing I could make out.

"The presentation," I answered.

"Very well then. Close your eyes."

My eyes shut and I can tell she's told me to lie down on the bed near my desk. Her words bring us back to the stage where our fantasy of the Feminine Allure presentation had taken place. Everything was the same, save for the comfortable therapist's couch I was spread upon with Mistress sitting in the love seat close to me. The class was there, talking amongst themselves. Mistress's hand was placed on my forehead and she used the other to snap her fingers, silencing the whole auditorium.

"They're receptive now Subject; you may speak."

Then I started speaking in a long stream of sentences, like it was all bottled up, waiting to be released. It felt odd, yet nice how freely it was coming from me, pouring out. I knew on some level I was telling her and that lecture hall everything. Everything that was bothering me, everything I'd figured out or theorized, and who knows what else. It was made easier by her touches on my forehead, like I was letting everything I was talking about go, to make way for pleasure in place of worry.

I could vaguely hear the audience speaking faintly, and I responded to whatever they were saying. Mistress said nothing, but simply listened to everyone else talk. For what I tried to be aware of, the audience as a whole was my subconscious self, talking with my conscious self, both in agreement of what I really wanted, despite what my consciousness felt tied to. After a while, Mistress silenced the room again, and spoke directly to me.

"You're falling back into your unhealthy habits Subject. I've left you suggestions of never missing a good night's sleep. I see I need to reinforce those again."

"But Mis-"

She put her fingers over my lips and sat on top of me on the couch. I should've been quite aroused at that point, and naturally would have been if she weren't so intent on me having a heart-to-heart with myself. She looked at me pensively, clearly showing me her position. She was on the side of my subconsciousness, the side of me that didn't want to be tied to late working hours and taking tedious work schedules in stride just to ensure employment, just because I could. Any other time, my consciousness could've brought up the need to be employed, and to work on something worthwhile. The recent discovery had taken the wind out of that arguable point; unemployment looked inevitable at this point. Mistress wasn't happy to have things go her way; she cared about my situation enough to seem equally disturbed. I knew she was asking the same questions my subconscious asked me, because I could feel myself repeating several phrases. It was like she needed to confirm for herself my desires, funny as it sounded.

It was amazing; the tone of Her voice didn't sound interested in compromise or choice, but She'd left me with a choice to actually submit that mock-up letter. I knew I could send it, along with details directly to UnEng's president himself, even if it meant possibly torpedoing my career. Coming to terms with it was hard, but that night was the start of it.

It took a while, or maybe a few seconds, but I found myself waking up back in my bed, refreshed physically a bit, a little emotionally drained, and overall changed. The cause of most of that change was still on the other end of the line, as my cellphone was still near my ear.

"Mistress...are you there?"

"I'm here," she spoke in a tired tone.

"So, I guess you know everything there is to know, even things I shouldn't know."

"I know we're not done talking about this, not by a long shot. I know you have a commitment to that circumstance and you believe in that, but when it's ready to leave you, you shouldn't let it bring you down."

I had no response to that, nothing worth saying anyway.

"I won't tell you what to do in this case; unfortunately, I don't have to, because you know what's coming. What I can control is you, and I have my Subject's well-being in-mind; it's unacceptable for a job to be a burden equal to the pleasure I reward you for submitting to me."

"...thank you Mistress...for caring so much about me."

"You're welcome. I must go now, but just fyi, when I hang up, you will have one more hour to work on whatever you need to, and then when I call again and you see it's my number, you will fall into a deep, natural sleep. You will check your cellphone, no matter what. When you wake up tomorrow, you will only go into work to turn in your assignments, then head back home, using one of those personal days that you never take advantage of without my insistence, and catch up on much needed sleep."

Without speaking, I mumbled "I should be happy about this."

"You will be; at the very least, you should feel the pleasure of pleasing me, doing exactly as I say."

"Why are you so amazing?"

"Because...now off with you, it's almost time for bed."

And she ended the call on that note, leaving me to my desk for however long it took to finish that remaining 1/3. A record 50 min for a decent write-up, and work was done. I lay in bed drowsily, waiting for that call. When her number appeared, sleepy euphoria easily washed over me, and I had sleepless dreams that night. Nothing about work, about Mistress, just silence and darkness and peace.

I woke up to the regular alarm, feeling still a little off from just 5 hours of sleep after being awake for 48. Needless to say, I did as commanded. I walked into the office just to drop off completed work, and a letter in the corporate outbox to the president himself. It was written all over my face how exhausted I was, so they didn't argue when I left.

I came back home and nearly fell into the bed as soon as I saw it. There'd be time to worry about everything else; that day, I came first. I remember whispering "thank you Mistress," before I slipped under again.