“AS A WOMAN, NEVER HAVE HIGH EXPECTATIONS OF LOVE FROM YOUR BOSS”
I always dreamed of working in the fashion industry, of immersing myself in the world of elegance and style. And when the opportunity arose in the form of a recruitment day at Flou, I knew it was my chance. Flou, was synonymous with luxury and sophistication, and I was eager to become part of this glamorous world.
I came to the interview full of hope and with a pounding heart. My life so far had been a series of short-term jobs and unpaid bills. I felt this was my chance to make a difference.
“Mademoiselle Mia, come in,” I was greeted personally by the company director himself, Mr. Laurent. His deep voice sounded like expensive cognac.
Mr. Laurent’s office was a work of art in itself. Modern furniture and walls decorated with paintings by famous painters – everything breathed richness and refined taste.
“You’re even more beautiful than your resume suggested,” he whispered as he scrutinized me. His words made me laugh awkwardly, but at the same time I felt a surge of confidence.
Mr. Laurent offered me a position as a personal assistant with a very tempting salary. He said he was looking for someone who would be in charge of not only his business affairs but also his personal needs.
“You will be my right hand, mademoiselle,” he explained as he handed me a glass of champagne. “And perhaps more in time…” He winked at me and I blushed.
I came to work full of expectations and determination. Mr. Laurent was a demanding boss, but charming and charismatic at the same time. Every day I couldn’t wait to immerse myself in his mysterious world.
My job consisted of organising his meetings, booking restaurants and ensuring his comfort. But it soon became clear that my role was much more intimate.
“Mademoiselle Mia, I’ll need your assistance tonight at a client dinner,” he announced one day. “And then…” his voice sounded dark, “perhaps we can have a private moment.”
My heart raced. I knew that “private time” didn’t mean anything innocent. And yet I felt an excitement I couldn’t suppress.
That evening I got ready – I put on a satin dress that accentuated my curves and let my hair fall loosely on my shoulders. When I walked into his office, Mr. Laurent smiled at me and I knew that today was going to be more than just a business meeting.
“You’re charming, Mia,” he whispered, moving closer to me. His breath smelled of expensive wine and I felt my knees buckle.
Then he took my hand and led me down a hidden hallway that opened from his office. We came to a solid wooden door that opened quietly.
Inside was a room that looked like it had fallen out of some erotic dream. Red silk covered the walls, candles provided soft lighting, and the scent of jasmine hung in the air.
“Welcome to my private paradise, Mia,” Mr. Laurent said, closing the door behind us.
“Ah…” I yelped as he gently tied me up with silk scarves and laid me on the large comfortable bed. “What… what are you doing?”
“I’m going to satisfy us both, Mia,” he whispered in my ear and I felt his hot breath on my neck. “You’re mine, at least for the moment.”
“No, please…” I sobbed, but my body wanted him. When he began to caress and kiss my neck, I moaned, “Oh no…”
“Shh, let the waves of pleasure wash over you, Mia,” he whispered, his hands roaming over my body, exposing every part of me. “Resist me if you can.”
His touch was like electricity coursing through my veins. When he finally began to stroke me in the most sensitive places, I moaned, “Ahh…”
“You know how much I want you, Mia,” he whispered, and I felt his body press against mine. “Come on, show me how much you want me too.”
And then I saw him. His manhood, so strong and ready. I gasped, “Oh, God…”
“Tell me what you want, Mia,” he urged as his hand continued to caress me.
“I want… I want you,” I breathed, feeling my face flood with heat.
The following weeks were a whirlwind of passion and pleasure. Monsieur Laurent initiated me into the secrets of BDSM that I had never known before. Every moment with him was like a roller coaster ride, full of excitement and surprises.
But one day, while I was cleaning his office, I discovered a photograph. Mr. Laurent was smiling, surrounded by his wife and two small children.
“Who are these people?” I asked when he entered the office.
His smile disappeared. “My family, Mia. My wife and kids.”
My heart stopped. “But… you didn’t tell me anything.”
“I didn’t want my personal issues to affect our… agreement.”
“Deal?” I repeated, confused. “So all this was just about…”
“Mia, please understand. My job is demanding, and sometimes you need…”
“Clean up and satisfy him,” I finished bitterly. “I’m just your toy, aren’t I?”
“No, Mia, that’s not true. I really appreciate you.”
But I didn’t believe him anymore. My dreams of love and romance vanished like smoke.
The days dragged on and I felt empty. Working for Mr. Laurent lost its luster and became just a reminder of my abuse. One day I decided to leave and find my purpose elsewhere.
I went to church to confess my sins. I knelt in the confessional and told my story to an unknown priest.
“My daughter, God is merciful,” came a quiet voice from the other side. “If you repent sincerely, you can be forgiven.”
“But I feel so dirty,” I sobbed. “It’s like I’ve lost myself.”
“The body is the temple of the soul, Mia. We must not be ashamed of our desires, but we must learn to control them.”
His words surprised me. I expected condemnation, not understanding.
“Thank you, Father,” I whispered. “I feel a little better.”
“When you’re ready, you can come again and continue your confession.”
“Yes, Father, I will,” I promised, and left the church with a slight sense of relief.
But as I turned to leave, I heard a sound that froze me.
“Mmm… Oh yes, my daughter, accept my forgiveness.”
The priest thrust his lustful gaze through the opening in the confessional.
I knew at that moment that my struggle with passion and love was far from over.
