Knowing one's place - Sex Stories

Knowing one's place

... area, and the pretty receptionists ready to call the power brokers. Amy flashed her badge and the private lift to the top floor opened. She was greeted by her own reflexion bouncing off the impeccable mirror panes that were fixed to every available space of the cube. She pushed the button for the top floor and started adjusting her thick red mane, before looking down at her shoes and jumping at the sight of her panties in the upskirt reflexion. She made a mental note to remember this for lift journeys with company. When she stepped out on the top floor, she was greeted by Caroline, Camille's secretary. "Please take a seat Amy, Miss Montsarde will be a little late." "Oh, do you know how late?" she enquired, a little disheartened by this delay to her eager quest. She laughed, "Miss Montsarde doesn't make a habit of divulging any such details to me." "I see," she replied flatly, "well I'll take a seat then." Forty five minutes later, Miss Montsarde drifted airily into the reception area and picked up some papers from her secretary's desk, and perused them leisurely. Amy assumed that she must have forgotten the time they were supposed to be spending together and got up to wave a hand, in a futile attempt to signal her presence. Her hand was left suspended and the office door was closed crisply, before her mouth could even open. Caroline smiled at the new assistant, "She'll call you when she's ready Amy." Amy was well aware of such techniques used to assert power and was not in ...

... any position to challenge. She just sighed deeply and sat back in her chair. Fifteen minutes later she was invited to go through. The room was vast and open, the glass walls and ceiling amplifying the space and leaving one with the impression of boundless perpetuity. The design concept had been very precise; to have a place with no physical or mental barriers, hence giving those inside the sense of openness and transparency. There was even a discreet gallery from where an audience could observe. Her confidence a little knocked, Amy approached the main desk with tentative steps. When she got to within a metre of the well sheened, glass surface, her boss finally deigned to acknowledge her existence. "Amee," she smiled, "I 'ope you are ready to learn; yesterday was ze easy part. Today, you will learn of the tools at our disposal to 'elp our patients. Now I 'ave no doubt about your knowledge or capabilities regarding 'traditional' therapy techniques but 'ere it is different. You need to be able to analyse your patient in more subtle ways, understand the inner workings of both their minds...and bodies." With that she got up and walked towards the window, looking out across the urban sprawl. Amy, stood there uncomfortably in the silence. After a couple of minutes, since her boss's back was still to her, she walked hesitantly over. Miss Montsarde remained calmly peering out of the window in a state of total relaxation. "Verbal communication only represents in ze region of thirty ...