“So here we are again Mr. Randolph.” Madame Jasmine Hilton said sternly, crossing her booted feet in front of her. The CEO was an imposing woman for her sheer presence alone, though her domineering looks (dark, braided hair, red lips, and stern grey eyes) helped matters along as well. She looked down in front of her, tapping her lip, and considered.

The aforementioned Mr. Sam Randolph was kneeling in front of her. The young college student had, along with a half dozen other candidates, been accepted as interns at her company. They had all been made to sign extensive contracts that promised an excellent career path upon graduation, providing they successfully completed their internships with the company. Contained within them as well were a host of penalty clauses for improper or deficient work. Which Mr. Randolph had triggered several times over the past couple of weeks.

Which was why he was kneeling before her dressed not in office attire but I clingy, shiny latex. Why his wrists and elbows were cuffed behind him with leather. Why inside his suit he was locked in chastity. He certainly wasn’t the only intern to suffer from Madame Hilton’s penalty clauses, but he was certainly the worst off. The other boys had mostly escaped with chastity devices being locked on, and one had to be gagged while at the office for complaining. Two of the girls were required to wear provided fetish attire while in the office, while the other was presently serving a temporary stint as a bondage maid for one of Jasmine’s VPs. But all of them had futures with the company, provided no further mistakes were made. All of them could reasonably expect their restrictions to be relaxed at the end of their internships.

Mr. Randolph seemed to be in a sort of doom loop, with each new restriction she added only impairing him further from his work.

He stayed quiet. At least he had learned she didn’t tolerate complaining. Eventually the corporal sessions had broken through to him that he couldn’t just mouth off to her. Tell her things like “you can’t” or “I quit” or other silly notions. No, he just knelt there in his bondage, and his fetish attire, cock probably straining against his cage, and waited. Patiently. He was such a good boy at these sorts of times.

Madame Hilton considered him for a moment longer, tapping at her lip. Then, she came to a decision, “I think what we need is to give you something different. A new role with the company.”

She rose elegantly from her seat, opening a drawer near at hand. She withdrew a sleek looking leather collar, and smoothed a hand across its surface. The boy was still looking downwards, so there was a sharp intake of breath as she wrapped the collar around his neck. A soft, despairing moan sounded as she locked it shut, and Jasmine smiled and patted the boy’s head, “Oh yes, Mr. Randolph. A new position. One which I believe you are eminently well suited for: Executive Slavery.”

The boy trembled beneath her touch, but his training to date held. There were no outbursts, though Jasmine could see how he strained to talk. To shout. To plead. She gave him not an inch, “In this role you will no longer need to concern yourself with office related tasks. You will have only one task. Pleasing and obeying myself and the nine other executives of the company.” She reached back into the drawer and drew out a ring-gag, tightly strapping it into the boy’s mouth. He moaned. That was alright. Gagged noises were acceptable.

That completed she shoved him under her desk, making the new slave kneel with his face jutting out from beneath it. Jasmine settled herself back down onto her chair and guided his head between her legs. He knew what was expected of him. She had already had each intern pleasure her at least once as part of their orientation. Jasmine smiled. The perks of contract writing. And of being the boss.

Already the boy’s tongue was heating her. She had made the right choice. Oooooh yes. There was no sense in applying penalty after penalty to the boy if no improvement was forthcoming. Better for them both if she ensured he found a role that he could truly excel in. Mmmmmmm. It had been two years since she had commissioned a formal Executive Slave. Mr. Randolph would make six current serving ones. Ten others had been ‘retired’ when they had been requested as severance packages for executives who were retiring or leaving. Jasmine moaned and smiled. It was about time she increased the numbers again. And she needed a new playmate until that boy she’d had committed to Mercy Asylum was properly programmed for her.

Hell, she might need to dip into the intern crop again. Start applying penalties to one or two candidates a bit more harshly. One of them was sure to slip, and wind up like the former Mr. Randolph.

It was good to be the boss.