Erotica

Excerpt: Corporate Ladder

My next erotica short story will be published soon! Here’s an excerpt – see if you like it 🙂

Disclaimer from the full text: 

This story includes scenes of graphic sex that some readers may find offensive, with strong themes of reluctance and humiliation. For a thoughtful perspective on these themes, see this wonderful blog post by Madison Berry published on Medium:  On “Me Too” and Writing “Non-Consent” Erotica. The author does not in any way condone “nonconsensual sex” (rape, sexual assault, coercion, harassment, etc).


“Enter, Miss Fairmount.”

I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stopped still in shock as I took in the scene before me.

The conference room was dark — unusual as three of its walls were floor-to-ceiling windows, with a fantastic view of the city. Now, however, blackout shades that I hadn’t even known existed were pulled down. As my eyes adjusted, I looked towards the head of the table at Mr. Pratt.

Old, fat, and lecherous, Mr. Pratt was a towering figure in the industry, and had the bank account to prove it. It was considered a privilege to work with him, especially straight out of college. I’d been nearly speechless at my interview with him, so in awe that I hadn’t even noticed how his eyes had lingered on my generous chest. Now, after five years, I had no respect for the man.  True, he was a shrewd businessman — but something about him had always made me uncomfortable.

Now, he smiled at me in a way that made my skin crawl. “Don’t just stand there, Miss Fairmount,” he said, raising his cane and gesturing for me to come closer. Nervously, I took a step in, and jumped when I heard the doors close behind me. I turned and realized that Mr. Pratt and I were not alone; two of my coworkers, Scott Johnson and Patrick Biles, had appeared out of nowhere and stood silently behind me. Why are they here? I looked at them in confusion, but their eyes revealed nothing; they just watched me with odd smiles on their face.

I realized I hadn’t moved. “Miss Fairmount!” Mr. Pratt said with an irritable cough. He banged his cane against the marble floor for effect. Starting to feel a little scared, I scurried forwards towards him.

Up close, I felt alarmingly on display as Mr. Pratt raked his beady eyes up and down my body. My oh-so-clever plan to use my body to maintain the upper hand now seemed unbelievably stupid; with my hefty bust and ass on my other wise slim and petite frame, the men of this company had made no secret that they wanted to do a number of unspeakable things to me from day one. Here, in the dark, I could only imagine what thoughts were running through their heads.

“Miss Fairmount, do you know why I have called you in for this meeting?” Mr. Pratt asked lazily, one hand resting on his portly belly while the other grasped at his cane, eyes firmly on my body.

“I — I can guess.” I hated the quiver in my voice; pulling my back up ramrod-straight, I tried to meet his eyes coolly.

“You’ve been at this company…how long? Five years, isn’t that right?”

Warily, I replied, “That’s correct.” I could still hear Johnson and Biles breathing behind me.

“Five years…in the same position?”

“Yes.”

“Astonishing, isn’t it?” I watched his face carefully. He continued to speak all the while continuing to stare at me. “With your sales numbers? You’ve been Wyatt-Pratt’s number one earner the past four years straight. It’s strange that you’ve never been promoted. Didn’t you ever wonder why that was?”

A million times. “Yes, sir.”

“Look at Johnson and Biles.” Summoned, the two men stepped out of the shadows and took seats at the conference table. “Johnson was promoted above you when he had half your numbers. And Biles, he’s been kicked off projects by clients more times than I can count on one hand — but he was promoted above you, twice.”

I knew all of this but hearing Mr. Pratt list my failures here, now, sent a fresh flush of humiliation through me. As if they could tell, Johnson and Biles smiled wickedly, still staring at my tits like I was on display.

“You see, Miss Fairmount — Daisy, can I call you Daisy?” Without waiting for a response, he continued. “Daisy, there is a reason that you’ve remained stuck at the same entry-level position the past five years, while those inferior to you get selected to move forwards. Can you guess as to what that reason is?”

I gritted my teeth. “Because I’m a woman.”

Mr. Pratt appeared highly amused at this. Still stroking his cane, he closed his eyes briefly and chuckled. “Close, Daisy, close, but not quite.” When I just looked at him, he smiled indulgently. Suddenly his deceptively light tone turned into a whisper, practically a snarl; I heard greed, lust, and menace now. “You see, I have fostered in this company a special and specific…culture. Good workers there are aplenty, but I seek something beyond that. The people I choose to hire have to possess a certain something, a je ne sais quoi. Something that tells me that they would belong here in this family, if you will. Do you understand, Daisy?”

Frankly, I had no idea where he was going with this. “Yes, Mr. Pratt.”

“You may call me ‘sir,’ Daisy.”

It sounded like an invitation but it was definitely an order, and a weird one at that. But I didn’t feel like I was in a position to question him. “Yes, sir.”

“Very good, Daisy.”

The queasy feeling in my gut was growing rapidly; I was starting to feel like I had walked into a lion’s den. The room was dead silent except for my breathing, getting faster by the second.

“This culture, Daisy, is the reason why you have never been considered for advancement. I did not know if you had what it takes to fit in here. When I hired you, I thought you would fit in marvelously, of course. But unfortunately it has been…quite unclear.” I nodded weakly. “Until now.”

If this was how he was going to fire me, he was going about it in an awfully roundabout way. I bowed my head and waited, but nothing further came. After a moment, I looked back up at Mr. Pratt, awaiting some sort of instruction. The gleam in his eye made me very, very nervous indeed. “Daisy, do you know that we monitor our computers very carefully? Email, web browsing, the like?”

Here it was.

“Yes, sir,” I said meekly.

“Ah. I thought you might not be aware, based on some recent information about what you seek on the internet.” I was listening intently but could detect no anger in his tone. He was playing with me as a cat with a mouse; but what was the game? “Yes, Daisy, I have been informed — and seen, myself — what it is you watched when you thought nobody was looking.” Another long pause. Oh god, this was it. It was more humiliating than I had pictured. And did this mean Johnson and Biles knew, too? Had they also seen the videos? I wanted to die. A bead of sweat dripped down the curves of my spine. “And that, Daisy, has shown me what I needed to know. That you are, indeed, ready for a promotion.”

My heart stopped; I couldn’t have heard him correctly. I had run through this meeting in my head a dozen times just this morning, trying to prepare myself to accept my resignation with dignity, but this had never once entered my head. Mr. Pratt chuckled darkly again at the shock that must have been evident on my face; Johnson and Biles both smirked at me. “Not what you were expecting, was it?”

It took me a moment to find my voice. “No, sir.”

Mr. Pratt leaned back in his chair; his large paunch straining at the buttons of his shirt. “Yes, I’d guess not. Yes, Daisy, you’re a hard worker — perhaps the best in the company. But not soon after you started here, I began to hear complaints about you. That you were snobbish, stuck-up. Thought too highly of yourself.”

This was ridiculous; I was no such thing! Perhaps the complaints had come when I had turned down dates and refused requests to dress “naughtier” — but how could anyone accuse me of being stuck-up?

“But that is not the worst of your offenses, Daisy. You see, myself and the others in this office had begun to worry that you were — if you’ll excuse my bluntness — a prude.”

My eyebrows shot up as this new revelation hit me. “I — ah —,” I stammered helplessly, wishing more than ever that I was wearing a thick, shapeless sweater and not a skimpy half-unbuttoned silk top.

“I’m sure you can understand why,” he continued, ignoring my discomfort. “I thought, perhaps I had made a mistake in hiring you. Perhaps you’d be better off — happier — working elsewhere, with other like-minded individuals.”

All of this was complete news to me; that anyone had thought I was a prude, and that it had nearly cost me my job?!

A job that, apparently, I was no longer in danger of losing.

In fact…

“So…you’ll give me a promotion?” I asked, my voice painfully squeaky.

“That’s right, Daisy.”

My heart soared; any frustrations I’d had were gone, any desire to leave forgotten. This is what I’d been waiting for all these years.

“However,” he continued, and I paused in my internal celebration. “I can’t just give it to you like that. You’ll have to earn it. No, don’t worry,” he said at seeing my crestfallen face, “I’m not asking you to work another month, or six months, or a year, to earn it. Just one afternoon is all that it will take for me to make up my mind.” As he spoke, I saw Johnson and Biles angling towards me in their seats; in my periphery, two shadowy figures appeared from a door in the back. It was two more of my coworkers, Adam Hancock and Robert Devlin. Did everyone in the office know about my transgression? Why was everyone here? Neither Mr. Pratt nor Johnson and Biles acknowledged Hancock and Devlin as they took their seats at the conference table, eyes also on me.

I was beginning to become concerned about how, exactly, Mr. Pratt was going to evaluate me.

“Daisy, Daisy, Daisy,” Mr. Pratt murmured as I squirmed. “I can see that you’re starting to get a sense of why you’ve really been called here. I’d be happy to let you in on the details. But first you must answer me two questions: one, are you interested in remaining at the company and attaining this promotion? And two…how far will you go to get it?”

I wrestled briefly with my feelings but in the end I knew. I had worked too goddamn hard for too goddamn long to pass up this opportunity; dammit, I wasn’t leaving this room without that promotion. I raised my chin and addressed Mr. Pratt directly to give my answer. “Anything.”

He smiled, looking wickedly pleased. “Exactly the answer I was hoping for,” he said, his voice so soft that I had to strain to hear it. “Because you’ll need to do just that. Now, come here and take a seat.”

With horror, I realized he was gesturing to his lap.


© Sara Bee 2018

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xoxo – SB

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