Resume Preparation
It's been two or three weeks since you read the job posting. If you admit it to yourself, you thought you'd forget it faster. The job search continues, you've already had a dozen "normal" interviews...
But what is a "normal" interview? Inside, you've already confessed to yourself what "normal" is for you. A state of excitement, of being in heat, of having your holes filled—that's normal. At every interview, with a mix of fear and desire, you wait for them to ask if you're ready... and, not hearing it, you leave disappointed.
"That" job posting is saved on your computer, in a hidden spot. Right there with your favorite stories.
Leaving another interview, you
imagine your service as a whore. Workdays where your ass is plugged. Panties not on you, but inside you. And where you're ready to rush to the boss at a single word and fall to your knees before him, awaiting either orders or permissions.For example, permission to jerk yourself off. You've already forgotten when you last did it on your own. You're forbidden, and doing it yourself no longer brings pleasure. You don't belong to yourself, and the feeling of being a thing makes the orgasm many times sharper. The main pleasure is earning a reward. The Master in the office allows you to spread your legs and jerk your dripping hole. In those moments, you flow so much you almost flood the chair. Even though you know you'll have to lick up all your secretions without a trace afterward...
Snapping out of these obsessions, you only come to your senses at home. Aroused, dripping with sweat and slick from the journey, you rush into the shower, where you come for the first time—quickly, sharply, without games.
You know the next time will be different. In your room, opening one of your favorite videos, you begin to caress yourself more intricately, deeper. The orgasm comes leisurely, drawn-out. A vibrator now in your pussy, now in your mouth. In your inflamed imagination, you're lost—is it one cock, or did the Master give you to two men? You're afraid of such desires. You yourself are afraid of the whore who lives inside you. But what sweet thoughts she inspires, and how intoxicatingly the second time arrives.
The third time is special. You convince yourself again and again that the vacancy is still open. You sneak a look at it, hiding from yourself. Rereading it once more, you come without the help of your hand. You bounce on one toy or two, settled comfortably on a chair. And then you slide off them, sink to your knees, and begin to greedily lick them. Two vibrators sticking up, smelling of the whore's unbearable desire...
What if?
Finally, during another fit of lust, you realize, "Who am I kidding? I want this job. I'll take the plunge."
The email to the author of the posting turns out very simple, naive. "Hello. I liked the story, I don't know why, but I decided to write." Letting off steam, you calm down. You don't expect a reply; the vacancy seems too fantastical. "This doesn't happen," you tell yourself, "And I only wrote to calm down."
To your surprise, a reply comes. You flush with embarrassment and pleasure, though also surprised. A correspondence begins; you find out what the resume should be like. Where and how the work is supposed to be.
You realize this is real. Now all your desires are focused there.
You prepare to write the resume...
Author's e-mail: fоr-sеcrеtаr-wоrk@rаmblеr.ru