Housegirl
cowgirl
Jennifer's highly insulted my a woman giving a job
interview, or is she?
__________
I fidgeted, all ready knowing the job interviewer
wasn't pleased with something. I was well qualified
and
everything, but there was a unreadable expression on
her face. I'd read several books on positive
interviews
and really needed something quick, as the whole "dot
com" blood bath had made upper management jobs totally
expendable.
I prayed my desperation was beneath my arched
back straining shoulders, phony smile and spiffy
little
three hundred dollar business dress, jacket and
designer high heels. Once hired I could relax and
revert typical
relaxed slumped posture, casual sneakers, jeans and
baseball cap. I flashed my phony smile once more, with
the same puzzling expression.
"I see you've worked a lot of places...Miss Corbitt is
it?" She asked.
" Jennifer, please. And Yes, I've been "stolen" away
from a lot of software companies of late, not to brag
or
anything..." I shrugging at my own lame lie. She started
back, rubbing her chin and flicked a tousle of her
autumn hair from out of her face, studying my resume.
I watching for any crack in her armor, trying to hide
my desperateness. Nobody hires desperate. Couldn't
hide I
was looking, but I'd been on the hiring side of that
desk, and I could smell desperation. I was an
excellent
bargaining chip, if someone was stupid enough to let
it show.
" Weeeeell, you know what things are like out there
Miss Corbitt." She said as I perched forward in my
seat.
" Jennifer....please..." I said a little too fast.
" Okay. Jennifer. I do have a position you'd be
perfect for It's something your completely qualified
for. But it's
not with this company. It's with me, personally.
interested? " She said measuredly.
" Sounds great. I mean, could you explain... " I
blinked.
She paused. "House girl."
I stared at her in shock.
For a moment everything froze. Her eyes held me there
as my breath quickened, cheeks becoming warm. Her
caustic tone made me flush in humiliation, and her
possessive stare coercing my petulant reply.
"House girl? You mean like a housekeeper?" I was too
stunned to even allow myself angry.
" That a problem?" She chirped.
My fists curled into little balls as I let my
shoulders slump a bit, the high heels pinching my feet
suddenly
feeling like clown shoes. I mean, was this bitch
deliberately *trying* to humiliate me or was she
actually
fucking serious here? I clearly had nine years
experience in upper management in software development
for
god's sake. The bile to rose in my stomach, despite
her attitude setting off something threatening to
burst
from inside.
" No offense, but don't you consider myself a little
over qualified for a simple housekeeper?" I said,
hating how
I'd added "no offense" in the slim chance I'd miss
understood.
" With your resume?" She lifted her gaze, eyes meeting
mine.
" Well, yes. Nine years. at - "
" I'm not here to negotiate. There's fifty more like
you outside my office who'll jump at the chance to
work for
me personally. Don't be stupid jenny. "
" Jennifer." I snapped, aware my face was scarlet and
my hands were now shaking with fury at myself for
allowing her for think of me this way.
" It bothers you doesn't it?" She said with a a
sympathetic smirk.
" *Bothers* is a understatement..." I said frostily,
reaching for my purse and struggling to get up. n.
" Let me ask you something. This isn't really you, is
it?" She asked, voice froze me me once again.
I paused, turned away from her gaze, facing the door.
" What do you mea- ." I choked, as she continued.
" All this. All dolled up in a Kors Michael Kors
dress, expensive designer Heels and trendy matching
jacket. It's
not the real Jennifer Corbitt, is it now? " She asked
unflinchingly.
I should have known she'd see through me. Part of me
was relieved, thought it also deepened my humiliation.
My
shoulders slumped even lower, if possible into mt
rightful position before this stranger. And for some
reason,
I answered her.
Honestly answered in a quiet little suffocated
whisper, back turned.
" no. "
" I'll tell you want Jennifer. I'd like you to do me a
favor. Go home, change into what you normally wear,
and
we'll start over, okay? " She asked without looking up
at her paper work.
For a moment everything froze once again. I could
imagine her eyes boring into me from behind me as my
breath
quickened, cheeks flushing from her the mock severity
in her voice. Her authority and composed tone made me
for some reason flush with wild excitement, and I felt
an odd warmth, little by little, creep over my body,
hands and nape of my moistening neck.
As I rushed home my body was exploding with strange
anger and desire, as my mind raced in circles
endlessly,
wondering if I really had a shot in hell here. I
collapsed on my bed and soaked myself in the
remembrance of
her firm warm voice in my head. Housgirl. Not even
houselady or house woman? Why would she think of me
for
that? jesus, talk about degrading! I shed my expensive
useless dress in a heap on the floor, and stood there
naked and trembling. But not with fear. Anticipation.
Still nude, I dug through my file cabinet and pulled
dozens of folders and awards I'd stacked up
professional
over the last nine years and carefully laid them out
out on my bedroom floor. It didn't look like much. A
padded
resume, a few cheesy "best employee of the month"
token gestures from each company I'd bluffed my way
into,
until they caught on what a fake I was. I felt a
tingling inside at how close to the truth this woman
may have
been, and I had to fight the desire to touch myself as
I started hatefully at my embarrassing excuse for a
career sprawled across my bedroom floor.
I licked my lips as I remembered, embarrassed and
eventually fired for petty things like stealing office
supplies and stupidly opening my legs for any superior
that moved. My fingers played across my tummy and
walked their way down my thighs as I realized what I
lie I'd been living. Telling myself fucking would
advance
me up the ladder, which of course it never did. I
just became the office whore. my fingers could no
longer
resist as I surrendered into a rhythmic blur across of
my panties, remembering and shuddering and desperately
trying to see what in me advertised: "housegirl"?
Nobody respected me, and rightly so. I didn't respect
myself,
or my work. I rubbed faster as more furious as I
worked myself into little hysterical whimpers, fucking
myself
silly. Jennifer doesn't like hard work, and this lady
could see that. Jennifer's laziness and worthlessness
showed too. Actually quite a joke as a career. Pure
shit really.
I dropped to the floor and started spitting on the
folders and rutting my face into them as I writhed
across the
floor in a shameful orgasmic tantrum. House girl.
Jenny the little houesgirl. A floating cloud of
erotic bliss
carried me as I caught the image of myself maturating
and crying on the floor. I fought tears of
disappointment
and as I poured over my every physical flaw my body
had with great gusto, scrutinizing my squirming self
in
hands buried in my underwear and bra in the mirror. I
imagined how ruthless she'd be if she saw me now, and
winced at the words. It wasn't simply doing housework.
I mean I'd been doing my own since I'd moved from
home at twenty one. It was her rightful disregard for
all I'd achieved over the years. Obviously I'd wasn't
worth
doing anyone's housework and we both knew it. She
could smell my fear, my panic. She'd discovered the
real
me.
A though flashed through my mind as I wiped some drool
from my mouth. Why was the image of being my
interviewer's personal "housegirl" so fucking hot for
me? I mean, I'd never even thought about this before
my
interview. Then I suddenly felt that same feeling when
she'd first offered, and later when I tried to leave.
An
unfathomable warmth and deep shame.
I remembered something I really should do.
I jumped up, still in an pleasant little erotic fog,
and threw on a apron and put some oven mitts on,
trying to
look as domestic as possible, but also threw on my
high heels, as a way of showing how silly the Idea
really
was. I wanted to be a sexual joke, an ornamentation,
not a real housegirl. I wasn't sure if I was just
dressing
up to further humiliate myself for what. There was
surely no way I'd appear before her like this. The
view of
myself in the mirror made me unbelievably aroused.
I checked my bank account as I yielded to the
compulsive sobs that shook me, realizing I've now only
one
mouthed rent left after the stupid dress n' various
crappy expenses. I raced back to the mirror and looked
at
how silly looked dressed in a frilly apron and oven
mitts, naked from the waist down and in shinny high
heels
to boot, and broke into fresh sobs! If I got some
strange thrill from the humiliation of privately
torturing
myself playing big ladies little housegirl, that was
my sickness. She never had to know.
She wasn't *really* asking me to do this, not really,
right? Part of me HAD to believe this was all her way
of
'telling me off 'for being such a phony, and I was
sure I sensed this ' go back and change" speech was
all a bluff
to bring me down a peg or two. Too see if I'd blink.
Hell' I'd blink if that'd get me in upper management.
I
composed myself and, with shaky fingers, got dressed,
in normal clothes this time. I also put my folders of
achievements in a box by my purse. I knew she wasn't
really the kind of boss who'd seriously offer me a
fucking "housegirl" position for god's sake. It was a
test, one I was privately failing. But she couldn't
really
expect me to, well....And if she did, well, I'd just
walk out in my comfortable clothes this time. Yes
time to
walk back into her office and face her as an adult, if
I could get my fingers out of my that is.
________
" There's that's better isn't it?" She asked as I
walked in.
" Much." I said as I slumped into her chair, trying to
sound like a different person, dressed in jeans and a
tee
shirt and sneakers.
" Okay, where were we?" She asked pointedly.
" The job?." I said trying not to bite my lower lip.
" Right. " She said, eyes holding me there. "
Jennifer, before we begin, what have have you there? "
She asked,
pointing to the box.
" It's all my personal achievements. Awards,
Professional accomplishments, etc.,. Just to show you
what I'm
really suited for. " I said proudly.
" Fabulous. Be a sport and bring them closer!" she
chirped as I lugged the box over, trying to ignore the
closeness of her presence to me.
She took my cheek in her hand as I froze before her
once again, the warmth of her fingers melting me
instantly.
" Someone's been a naughty little business lady,
hasn't she? " She said, gently guiding me over her lap
as I
squirm a little ahd she hold me there firmly, as she
skillfully unbuttoning my jeans from underneath.
" You poor little piece of white trash! You
desperately keep running in circles, trying to figure
out what this
new obsession with my offer, don't you my little
dummy? And what's this supposed to prove? " She asked
pointing to my box of stuff."
" Jenny, my silly little jenny-poo...Won't it be a
relief to finally finally stop pretending? Huh?
Doesn't your my
little get tired of trying to fool everyone by
trying what's beyond your skills? Doesn't she?" My
employer
cooed encouragingly, as I fought to keep from nodding.
She reached over and handed me my first folder, her
eyes guiding me to the paper shredder, knowing what
was
expected.
"If you want to be my little housegirl you'll have to
*earn* it, right jenny? Now be a good little muffin
and
show you know your place, okay princess? Hurry up."
Her eyes danced with cruel affection as my eyes fogged
over with desire.
I tearfully started shredding, folder by folder, my
entire nine years of hard work as she works my jeans
come
down exposing my bare bottom obscenely exposed over
her lap and feel a slight slap to punctuate my
humiliation further.
" That's my little domestic. Goooooodddd
Giiiiirrrrrllll....."
I t more alive, frightened, heart racing, hands
shaking, as she works the rest of my clothes of and
starts
spanking her little housegirl hard and furious now as
sob in blessed relief, utterly destroy that last of my
old
life. As the last of my clothes off, I humped myself
into her knee and grunted passionately and proudly as
my
now exposed the frilly apron I still had on underneath
became visible. I hear her laugh as she digs out the
mitts
and high heels from the box.
" Oh my, look what you've been hiding! Looks like my
little housegirl came to work prepared for a change
this
time, didn't she?"
"yeeeesss ma'am." I managed to gurgle.
Check out ALL cowgirl's humiliation at:
ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Cowgirl/
:-)
love,
jennifer (Aka: cowgirl)
*******
This work is copyright (c) 2000 by cowgirl. You may
download and keep copies for your personal use as long
as the author's byline and e-mail address and this
paragraph remain on the copies. Please do not post
this
story to any web site without permission from the
author. All other rights reserved. No alteration of
the
contents is permitted.
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