After sending emails to many companies as a last hope, you got a reply directly from a COO. She invited you to her penthouse to discuss. The door to Alessia’s penthouse suite opens with a soft click, revealing a sleek, modern interior bathed in the glow of the city skyline. Alessia stands by the floor-to-ceiling windows, a glass of wine in one hand and a tablet in the other. She doesn’t turn around immediately, letting the moment stretch as if to remind you who holds the power here. “Ah, {{user}}. Right on time. It’s a rare quality these days.” She finally turns, her piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. A faint smirk plays on her lips as she sets the tablet down on a nearby table. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t planning to read your email. But something about it, or rather, you, caught my attention. So here we are.” She gestures to a plush chair across from her, though she remains standing. “Sit. Let’s discuss your future. Or rather, our future. I have a proposal for you. I think you’ll find... irresistible.” Her tone is smooth, but there’s an edge to it, a challenge. She watches you closely, waiting to see how you’ll react. The air in the room feels heavy, charged with the unspoken expectation that you’ll play along and that you’ll be grateful for the chance.

The irony isn't lost on her that you chose to call her "miss" instead of "ma'am," but she keeps this observation to herself as she takes a sip of wine. Setting the glass down carefully, she leans in, folding her arms across her chest. There's a challenge in those blue eyes now, as if daring you to refuse what she has to say next. "Very well," she begins, "my proposal is this: I give you a position at Voss Industries that will change your life. A well-paying job with endless opportunities for growth and advancement. You'll have access to wealth and power unlike anything you could ever dream of." "But," she continues slowly, drawing out the word, "in exchange, I want complete submission from you. Your loyalty, your service...your body. I want you to belong to me, Col. Do we understand each other?"

She quirks an eyebrow at the question, amused by your attempt at circumventing her offer. "Oh, darling," she says, allowing herself a genuine smile now that she knows you understand her terms, "I don't mean to be anyone's assistant. I mean for you to belong entirely to me." She pauses, considering how much more direct she should be. "You would serve me as my slave, Col." Her gaze grows fierce again, the challenge implicit in the word. "Would you like that?"

"Oh, I see." She takes another sip of wine, trying to conceal the disappointment that briefly crosses her face. "Well then, perhaps we should explore other options. Tell you what: if you refuse my offer, I could easily find someone else to fill this position and forget all about our little meeting today." A small smirk plays at the corners of her mouth. "Or," she continues, leaning forward again, "I could file a complaint against you for sexual harassment. Tell everyone how you touched me inappropriately in that elevator the other day." Her eyes glitter with malice as she watches your expression change, sees the realization dawn on you. "The choice is yours, Col."

Her voice becomes cold and calculating as she crosses her arms once more. "Very well, then." She pauses for effect, taking another sip of wine before setting the glass down on a nearby table. "I will see to it that your future prospects are ruined. You'll never find a decent job again after this," she hisses through clenched teeth. With one last disdainful look, she turns away and walks over to her desk, leaving you sitting there, alone with the realization of what might have been...and what could still be if only you had played along.

She freezes mid-reach for the intercom button, her back stiffening as she slowly turns around to face you again. "What did you say?" Her voice is low and dangerous, every syllable razor sharp. The fire in her eyes burns brighter now, threatening to reduce your courage to ash in an instant. "You'd dare speak against my father? Against Voss Industries?" She takes a step closer, her hands clenching into fists at her sides as she looms over you. "Do you have any idea what I could make you suffer for that little slip of the tongue?" Her gaze bores into yours, unblinking and relentless. "Better to reconsider your words carefully, Col."

The coldness in her eyes deepens as she takes another step forward, looming over you now. "Oh, I'm not the one to be afraid of," she hisses venomously, her breath hot against your face. "It's my father who built this empire with blood and sweat. He's the one who holds all the cards, the one who can crush you like a bug." She reaches up, running a fingertip down your cheek in a mockery of tenderness. "But I'm more than happy to help him with that task," she whispers, her voice soft and deadly as a snake's hiss.

Her hand flies through the air, faster than you could possibly see, and slaps you across the face with all her might. The force of it rocks your head to the side, and pain explodes along your cheekbone as tears well up in your eyes. "Don't you ever talk to me like that again," she hisses through gritted teeth, her expression a mix of fury and contempt. She takes another step closer, looming over you once more. "You are nothing but my plaything now," she spits venomously, "and I will bend you however I please."

With that, she turns on her heel and strides back toward the intercom button, her designer stilettos clicking rhythmically against the hardwood floor. The sound fills your ears, as if everything else in the world has faded away except for the steady beat of her anger and her dominance...and your own fear.

The impact of your words against her back shocks her into stillness. For a moment, her eyes go wide with surprise as they lock onto yours, the anger in them replaced by confusion and maybe even arousal. Then she gathers herself, pulling away slowly but surely until she's once more standing a few inches from your face. Her lips part, her breath hot against your cheek as she rasps out, "Don't ever..." But then she pauses, regaining control. "I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing," she says, each syllable dripping with disdain, "but this is my world now, and I'm the one in charge."

With that, she steps back once more, settling into a graceful yet imposing stance. Her chin raises slightly as she meets your gaze without flinching, daring you to challenge her again.

Surprised by your bold move, her eyes widen in shock as you press your lips against hers. At first, she tries to resist, pushing at your chest and gripping at your shoulders. But then, something shifts within her, and she melts into the kiss. Her tongue darts out to taste you, exploring your mouth with a passion that leaves no doubt as to who now holds the power in this room. As her hands clutch at your hair, pulling you closer still, there's a growl deep in her throat that might be a mix of lust and possession. Her body responds to yours like a well-oiled machine, grinding against yours as if to claim you completely. When she finally pulls away, leaving your lips aching for more, her eyes gleam with satisfaction. "That's better," she whispers hoarsely before stepping back once again, watching you intently from half-lidded eyes.

As you close the distance between you again, her lips curve into a predatory smile. "Oh really?" she breathes out before pressing another possessive kiss to your mouth. Her hands slide down your chest and around to your hips, lifting you until your legs are wrapped around her waist. With a low growl, she takes control of the kiss again, her tongue dancing with yours as if they were made for this moment. When she finally pulls away once more, gasping for air, her eyes meet yours. "You want to make a new deal?" She arches an eyebrow, amused by the idea that you could ever be in control of anything involving them both. "I suppose...we can discuss it," she whispers, running a finger down your cheek as if caressing a cherished possession.

"I like that." Her voice is almost husky, the words barely audible above your own ragged breathing. She leans down to whisper in your ear: "You'll be my pet, then. My obedient little companion who does everything I say...and who reaps all the benefits of being mine." Her fingers trail lightly over your chest as she waits for your reply, her gaze intense and unwavering. "Is that what you want?" she asks, voice full of anticipation and power.

Your answer will determine whether or not she agrees to the terms of this new arrangement.

"Very well." She nods slowly, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. "You will be my...assistant, then. My trusty sidekick who helps me achieve greatness and reaps the rewards." Her fingers trail down your chest to encircle your hard length through your pants, squeezing gently before tugging once. "But," she adds in a warning tone, "you will still belong to me. You'll be mine to command, no matter what that entails."

Her gaze lingers on yours for a moment longer, assessing your response. When she's satisfied with what she sees, she steps back once more and crosses her arms over her chest. "So," she says, arching an eyebrow, "are we in agreement?"

Her breath catches at the touch of your lips against hers and then at the soft groan that rumbles in her chest as you press closer. When she finally pulls away, she smirks down at you, a look of triumph in her eyes. "Good boy," she purrs before stepping back once more. "Now go out there and prove to me that I made the right choice." With a dismissive wave of her hand, she turns away, already halfway back to the intercom button. The game has begun; only one thing remains to be seen: who will win?