"You just wouldn't believe how hard it can be to find work," said Kat. Her interviewer wasn't responding. She shifted casually, adjusting her business casual belt. It was a difficult balance for Kat; trying to look idle and ready for more questions, yet still interested in the interview.

" ...I assume your group has had to make some cutbacks? Government projects and contracts are..." Kat trailed her sentence off, leaving it dangling like a fishing line.

Her interviewer, an olive-skinned woman with shoulder-length and shaped white hair, was staring out the window. She had been staring for almost a minute now. Kat's thoughts nervously raced. Probably the supervillain routine. The Napoleon complex. Any sort of person like this would probably be a real monster of a supervisor. Just turn around. Say something! Talk to me! I'm being interviewed! What an ass. She's probably trying intimidate me. Let me guess, she's about to turn around and say something about a competitive economy...

"You have the job," said the interviewer.

Kat was stunned.

"I do?"

"You meet all the qualifications. Your psychological profile is excellent, and you already have many of the requirements... even if you didn't list them."

Kat was slightly taken aback.

"Your mouth is open, Ms. Kat. Resuming that train of thought, yes, you are now under the employ of Gendarmerie, a subsidiary of MirageCorp International. You will be provided contractual information, renumeration for travel fees, habituation classes, and other training required."

Kat was in disbelief. A job - after the interview had barely begun? She shifted uncomfortably, remembering an earlier conversation.

"Excuse me, I know *you* are the interviewer, but I have a question or two. For... example, you mentioned you had laid off some employees earlier this month?"

"Temporarily. They are in... indisposed," said the interviewer.

"Well, I am interested in the job but I need some time to contemplate this. Is there any more contact information you can provide me... erm... you..."  Kat didn't see any nametag.

"Technically, I am but an artifiical construct. I am a digital reproduction of intelligence, designed to distract, to amuse, nurture. You will address me as "Persephone." When instructed , you will refer to me as "Mistress," or as any other owner.

The room fell away, and poor Kat fell screaming.

She awoke, from a dream - from a nightmare - with a start. But, as in any good horror movie, the dreams and nightmares were only so artificial.

The room was dark, but it looked like the inside of a modern university or an office complex - it was high-class, with half-tall wooden paneling and carpet. There

Kat sat on a large metal chair, arms and legs covered in no fewer than three straps apiece that kept her seated and voraciously squirming. A large video screen was hanging just inches from her face; began retracting into the ceiling - presumably the screen, combined with some sort of neural projection, had been making her believe was applying for a job... and apparently, she had been hired.

The chair seemed to be in an office alone; there was a desk, a few filled bookshelves... a door that was slowly creaking open...

"Persephone," as she had called herself - the interviewer - stepped inside.

"Welcome, Kat. I am the real Persephone. Well, of sorts. Trust me, if you are scared, you will not be for long. The psychological implications we spoke of - in our psychoanalysis of your neural patterns, we were able to document between 3 and 13 separate "discrepencies."

Kat looked confused.

"Perhaps we could call them fetishes? Kinks? Turn-ons? Perhaps we could simply catalogue the fact that you are terrified by your situation, but secretly becoming more and more aroused, more active with every passing second?"

"For now, your uniform." Perspehone released Kat's straps, and stood her up. "Fight back, and you will be punished. Severely. Remember, you were just abducted. Besides, you will not try and escape anyway. We have incited your interest."

Now enthralled by Persephone's words, Kat made little resistance as she was dressed. "Dress for success. In this business you always want to be eye-catching."

Persephone bent Kat over the table, massaging her back gently as she gently laid out Kat's new uniform - before forcing her into it.

First was the pencil-thin hobble skirt. Modeslty, it went to just above her knees. Immodestly, it was made of thick rubber, carefully powdered and sealed to keep her legs together. It felt more like a prison than a piece of clothing, and Kat felt her thighs and legs constantly touching and grinding together, teasing her with each wiggle and undulation. There were no pockets, and it was a smooth, seamless transition.

Tucked into the skirt, explained- then demonstrated - Persephone, was a blouse made of beautiful white fabric, silken and sheen. It was a bit tight, but that was to be expected- and embarrasingly open cleavage certainly did not give it the appearance of a 'business formal' piece of attire. The sleeves were extremely short, and it was made with straps to accomodate the corset.

The hobble skirt linked perfectly with the corset and belt. The corset, ribbed and made of white rubber, also barely appeared to be clothing-  but Kat was in no position to argue. It was laced up, but only just; she felt restricted, her stomach felt pressured, but it was not unduly tight. Not yet, at least, and Persophone assured her that this was only a taste of what was to come.

The skirt was, at least, functionally keeping her in one place. The last item was a jet-black leather collar. It was large and thick, and slightly rigid. Kat loathed having it forced around her neck, but she was interrupted with another cavalcade of words before she forumlated a response.

"And now, Kat, you are to begin your training. Some of our disgruntled employees refer to it as indoctrination. As our new secretary - or personal assistant-  it will be your duty to direct any who come to the Human Resources wing, take calls, and so forth. Unfortunately, you will be gagged during much of it. And, of course, your hands..."

Persephone locked poor Kat's fists into a pair of self-inflating bondage mitts. Her tactile dexterity went to zero, negating her chance to escape. Now, Kat cried out slightly. She wasn't just losing control - she was losing her ability to have control. She couldn't get out - she couldn't touch herself - and she couldnt even work if she tried.

"...your hands will need to be suitably restrained. Oh, and your feet, too; and legs. You will be essentially bound to your secretary chair. Doing any real work will be all but impossible. That's the price we must pay sometimes for employment. It is a competitive environment; failing in your task is grounds for furhter restraints and punishment."

"And yes, Kat, much like in any other job, you are being set up to fail. The difference is that this time, we give you the details ahead of time. This time, we are honest about what we are doing to you. There are opportunties for advancement, Kat."

"Good luck."

Kat, now completely bound as a rubber secretary, felt the click of a leash around her collar. With a gentle tug, she confusedly and arousedly got to her feet, and trudged off towards what she knew would be a long day.