October Caption Challenge (19/31)
In business, you can get away with a certain amount of sleaze, and Carl tended to push the line a bit more than most. But mostly, what Carl was looking for was power, and now, as a hiring manager for a major company, he could wield a good amount of it, and fuck, did he like ruining someone’s day. Hell, just today, he’d had some middle aged guy come in for a job interview–they couldn’t legally screen for age, but needless to say, he was not looking for someone this old. Still, why not fuck with the guy a bit? They had a nice chat, and Carl did everything he could to butter the guy up a bit, even sharing a cigar with him in the office.
But finally, at the end of the interview, he told the guy that the position had already been filled–but he could offer him an unpaid internship instead. The guy’s face just melted–after all, those fucking internships were designed for kids with trust funds, not for older fellows with bills to pay. He asked Carl to reconsider, and instead, Carl just starts selling him on the position, telling him it will be great to build experience, and he can see the guy getting angrier and angrier, but he finally realizes he’s been played, and stormed out.
Carl had a good laugh with some buddies after that one. The dream imp wasn’t laughing, however.
That night, Carl found himself sitting in a chair in a waiting room. He didn’t know how he’d gotten there exactly, but he knew that he was waiting to be interviewed for a job of some sort, but he didn’t know what. He started to panic a bit, in fact, trying to wrack his head and remember what, exactly, he was here for. Then, his name was called, he stood up, and went into the room.
It wasn’t an office though, it was a spacious living room–and there, in a comfy armchair, was the older fellow he’d interviewed that day, except…not quite. He was more muscular for one thing, and he was wearing this strange leather gear, and these boots shined to perfection. There was no chair in front of him, and he did not motion for Carl to sit anywhere–so he just stood, awkwardly, in his suit.
“Well Carl, I must apologize. I’m afraid the position of Master that you’d applied for has already been filled, by me,” the man said, taking a long draw on the cigar he had between his gloved fingers. “Luckily though, we do have a few other openings–unpaid, sadly.”
“I…I don’t understand, I don’t need a job from you.”
“Yes, but don’t you want one?” the man asked. Carl felt something in his head flip, and looking at him now, the leather, the boots, he…he was horny. Why the fuck was this making him horny? “Why don’t you get on your knees, boy.”
It wasn’t a request, it was an order, and Carl found himself compelled to obey him. “Please Sir, I think there’s been a mistake.”
“I should say so–I can’t believe you wore a suit to your interview with me. Everyone knows that good slaves ought to show up in the gear they want to serve in.”
The suit on his body started to wriggle, becoming a pair of bleached jeans with yellow bracers, and a black tank top. “Please, this has to be a dream, just let me wake up!”
Something cackled behind him, and there, he saw the imp crouched, watching the two men in delight.
“Don’t worry about him, slave,” Master said, “Why don’t we start the practical interview?” He clicked his gloved fingers, and something appeared in Carl’s mouth, a gag attached to a short rod, with an ashtray at the end of it. Master put his booted feet on Carl’s crotch, mashing his cock and making him moan in something between pain and delight.
“Now, I’m going to smoke, and then I’m going to fuck your hole slave, and then we’re going to do a few hundred more things, and by the time we’re finished with this interview, I think you’ll be ready to come serve me in real life, how does that sound?”
He crushed Carl’s cock again, and he groaned through the gag. Apparently, it didn’t matter what he wanted. This dream wasn’t going to end anytime soon, and by the end of it, Carl would have a brand new position in life, whether he wanted to or not.
Bracken's Corner 