Mario read the hiring advertisements online again today.  He wasn’t desperate for a job, yet, but getting there.  He was barely eighteen.  He had his GED and a very thin resume, but he knew he’d make a dedicated worker if someone would give him a chance.

Living at home in the basement was all he could afford for now.  He loved his parents and they in return.  But, well, you know…

…a new ad piqued his interest.  It was titled “Lady’s Personal Footman,” and sounded at first read, like a sorta servant-type position.  Consulting the dictionary confirmed his guess.  However, the ad’s sparse description only made it more interesting.  He hadn’t found anything to apply for in two days, so off went his paperwork.

 A few hours later came a reply.  Mario was stunned at the speed.  The lengthy application was normal stuff he had done many, many times before.  But the last page asked lots of personal questions which he thought might be illegal to ask, but, considering his situation, he answered eagerly.  He also included his senior pictures as required and e-mailed the package.

The next morning, he got another message.  This one shocked him.  It said an appointment was scheduled for 1:00 PM that afternoon and gave a downtown address.  Whoa, unbelievable!  He needed to really hurry…

…the lobby of the sleek office building was sumptuous, with white leather furnishings and contemporary art on the polished metal sidewalls.  The head wall announced the company name “BONDACO.”  A male receptionist welcomed Mario in and told him it would be a few minutes till his interview.  He fidgeted the whole time until summoned.  Guided down a long hallway, he was escorted into an expansive corner office and left standing before an enormous glass desk. 

Behind the desk was a high-backed snakeskin executive chair.   Mario stared in wonder at the partially visible female seated in it.  She was looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows.  All he could see of her, so far, was platinum blonde tresses and stiletto-heeled boots.  The extremely long hair spilled out of the sides of the chair.  The shiny black boots were at the end of towering, crossed legs.  He tingled at the sight, hearing her melodic voice issuing low and sultry offerings into Her cell.

His pulse quickened and his anxiety skyrocketed.  He swallowed hard and licked his suddenly dry lips.  Seconds passed.  He felt his groin charged with anticipation. ‘Turn around, please, please’ his brain pleaded. 

Then suddenly, without warning, She swivels to face Mario.

He involuntarily lets out a gasp.  He senses his cock surge.  He’s overwhelmed like never in his short life, for She is perfection.  Her jeweled hand places the cell down but She doesn’t look up at Mario.  Instead, this ravishing bombshell begins tapping on a laptop.  In the near silence, he feels himself shaking like a windblown leaf cast into oblivion.

“What have I here?” She asks, deep azure eyes inspecting the screen.  “Umm, certified eighteen.”  Now She glances up briefly and adds, “You look much younger. I like that.  Fresh.  Innocent.  Vulnerable.”  She leans the chair back casually.  Her flowing blonde mane cascades like a waterfall.  Her absolutely enormous breasts all but escape the confines of their crisp white blouse.  That garment is tantalizingly open to Her navel.

“You have a girlfriend,” She observes bluntly, looking at Mario seriously for the first time.  Her gaze strips his body of all covering and his mind of all resistance.  He feels naked and fearful instantly.  Moments of time pass by.  Mario is speechless.  Mario is way beyond aroused by this seductive twenty-something knock-out.

“Steady?”

He manages to nod in the affirmative, which elicits a sly smirk on Her bronzed, and insanely beautiful face. “How long?” is the next question.

Mario whines, “Six mon, months.”

“Umm, time enough to get intimate,” She coos, then adds, “Yes?”

Again, a tortured head shake.

“Uhh, good.  Is she cute?”  He watches as Her spectacular legs slowly uncross and recross under the glass surface.  In that instant, Mario sees a zipper descending from Her waist and disappearing between powerful-appearing inner thighs. “Gawd to be in there,” his brain explodes with primal desire.  

“Yes.”

“As cute as Ms. Bonda?” is Her teasing follow-up.  He’s frozen, watching arms raise above Her head and Her upper torso undulate like a forbidden, lethal serpent.  Knowing this boy is incapable of response, She forges on, “Tall, like Me?  Few little girls are.  Curvy?  Big tits like My massive beauties?  I doubt it.” 

Mario is so overwhelmed by this bold vixen and Her sexual interrogation; he merely moans pathetically. 

“Shy, aren’t you?” Now, Ms. Bonda purrs like a stalking lioness. Slightly leaning over the desk, She brazenly displays a deep, cavernous cleavage.  “Aroused, as well, I see.”

His hands are immediately thrust downward and in front of the substantial bulge in his dress slacks. His face turns fire red.

“Do Not cover up.  Move your hands.” She snarls, beginning to rise out of the savagely encased chair.  “I want to see what you brought for Me!”

Sheepishly he drops his guard while this soaring Amazon slithers around the end of the desk and slides a tantalizing tush onto the glass surface.  With a coy grin, She observes Mario as he helplessly ogles a colossal, curvaceous body conceived to seduce and destroy mankind.  Blood wildly rushes into his throbbing erection.  Its stiffness expands uncontrollably.

“Remove your shirt.”

Stunned, Mario hesitates, knowing in his blurred thoughts that this is beyond his ability to comprehend.  Who is this bewitching she-devil?  Where is She leading me? 

“Follow My orders…please.” He hears and quickly, mindlessly obeys. “That will be the last time Ms. Bonda will say…pleezz.”  The final word is served with taunting sweetness that oozes like evil disdain.

“Pose.  Flex.  Pecs.  Delts.”  With beguiling ease, She guides him through a quick session of muscular presentation which he hasn’t done in years.  “Acceptable,” She concludes, beginning to gently bounce the crossed leg up and down dangerously close to his crotch.  “Those cute jeans of yours are getting tight, aren’t they?”

Mario gulps air and answers meekly, “Yes, yes they are.”  His gaze is captured by the pendulum swing of a black leather boot that comes ever closer to contact.  He elevates up onto tiptoes to avoid the pending touch which would send him into orbit.

“Undo your belt.”  He does.  “Undo your snap.”  He does.  “Unzip!”  Again, he does, sweat beading on his forehead.  This afternoon is so much more than an employment interview.

“Take IT out!“ 

For Mario, this is a wicked fantasy and yet a chilling nightmare.  He slumps to the weight of Ms. Bonda’s penetrating gaze and senses the magnitude of Her seductive powers.  This is a vixen who controls male lust and plays it simply for Her pleasure.

“I will not ask twice!”

A quite large, quite throbbing, and certainly oozing cock appears for Her examination.

“Isn’t that better?” She inquires, obviously not expecting a reply.  “Give it air.  Let it grow,” She purrs.  Ms. Bonda tilts Her head and props it on a fist, apparently inspecting the steel-hard erection that She’s created.  “That’s cute, black boxers,” She pronounces, adding, “Stretch the waistband out and slip it under your ball sac.”

Her bewildered and magnificently hung applicant, turned plaything, touches the tender underside of his cock, which instantly produces a hiss from the boss lady, “Hands to your side. Do not move.”

“I, I,” Mario whimpers.

“Do not speak.”  The air is electric with Her irresistible dominance as this gorgeous creature smoothly glides off the desk and arrogantly struts into Mario’s personal space.  His cock is projecting within inches of Her slacks, dripping profusely. 

She gives it a cursory glance before speaking in a silken drawl, “You are but one of many young hunks being allowed to apply for the honored position of Ms. Bonda’s personal footman.  As always, I have excellent specimens from which to choose.”        

Mario’s knees are shaking now, causing the head of his swollen member to bob about precariously close to Ms. Bonda’s elegance.  Ignoring the boy’s excruciatingly excited shaft, She proceeds, “My footmen are loyal.  My footmen are devoted, and My footmen are impeccable…obedient.”  The emphasis on that last essential element tweaks Mario’s most cherished wet dream.

Ms. Bonda snickers at the surge in his member, “Umm, I see that image of subservience to your obvious superior turns you on even more.”  Abruptly, She pivots, a swiveling hip just barely clears the tip of his organ.  The crazed kid humps the air pathetically while Her back is turned, missing probably his only chance to touch this evil goddess.

“Have you ever kissed your girlfriend’s shoe or boot?” is the question posed back over Her shoulder as Ms. Bonda returns to the desk.

“Ohh, no,” is the response.

She arches Her back and runs long fingers up under the waves of flowing tresses.  Splaying the blonde mane out, She then lets it cascade down below Her tiny waist.  Mario moans at the sensuous display, as again Ms. Bonda sits on the desktop and elegantly crosses Her legs.

“On your knees on the floor.” Is Her next command.  Down he goes as his boner bounces uncomfortably.

“Waddle over here,” She chuckles, observing his awkward movements across the office.  As the enthralled boi approaches, an index finger points at a spot directly below Her extended leather-clad leg.  There he stops.

The toe of a boot taps him smartly on the tip of his nose.  “Cradle it.”  With trembling hands, he touches the supple leather.  “This is Ms. Bonda’s boot to be worshipped.  Kiss it!”  Smacking noises ensue.  “Lick it!”  She watches the obsessed male proudly.  Breaking a hot guy’s resistance so quickly, makes Her quite wet.  Tapping a nail on the towering stiletto he follows Her lead with his roaming tongue, sliding it reverently up and down the slender metal shaft.

Ms. Bonda lightly strokes his hair, observing the head of his cock now emitting a constant trickle of pre-cum.  “If I want you, I will have you, right?” She asks sweetly.

“Yes,” he struggles between licks.

“Excellent.  Now…STOP.”  She swings the boot out of his grasp, and he flails his arms trying not to fall.  “Put it back in your pants,” is Her next demand, adding, “And do NOT cum.”

While Mario carefully, ever so reluctantly, tucks his blue balls and denied prick out of sight, She continues speaking, “Your assignment for tonight is to research the history and the purpose of a ‘footman’.”

A facial tissue floats down to the floor between his knees.  “Clean My high heel,” is Her aside before more assigning.  “You will go home.  You will jerk off, no doubt.  Many, many times.  All in honor of the magnificence of Ms Bonda, yes?”

“Ohh, gawd, yes, yes.”  A plastic bottle bounces on the floor in front of Mario and instinctively, he grabs it.

“Jerk till it hurts…a lot.  Jerk till you’re totally…empty.”  She moves forward into a standing position over Mario.  His eyes are directly in line with the tight material stretched over Her divine womanhood.  He faintly hears the rest of the instructions. “Collect all your filthy jizz in that bottle.  All of it.”

Ms. Bonda saunters around the end of the desk and descends into Her chair.  “Bring it to Me by noon tomorrow.  I will consider your future then.”  The most beautiful babe Mario has ever seen looks over and stares with a captivating, seductive intensity that sears his brain.  “You…are…dismissed!”