Seven Days of Service - Day 01

This story is a re-post from several years ago.

This chapter spends most of its time developing the characters involved, and the story line in general. Although there is a sexual element involved, it is not terribly graphic right now, a condition that will be developed much more thoroughly in following chapters.

This is the first of eight chapters, and the reader is cautioned that there is a

D/s

theme throughout, and very graphic language.

Whether you hate this missive for some reason, or enjoy it, any feedback would be welcome.

* * * *

Sales were down drastically for the division this year, and there seemed to be little that could be done about it. My department had been scratching over depleted accounts for nearly six months, and this did not bode well now that the owner's son—Wade--was now the division head. Citing his wonderful academic career—just graduated from college—he was chock full of new ideas to spur us on to sales nirvana.

Most of his ideas were simply irritants to the managers working for him, as many of us had tried variations of them in the past with little to no result. His latest was particularly irritating, simply because it forced interdepartmental rivalry, where previously we'd had our greatest success working together as a team. One of the managers however, had voiced overwhelming approval of the idea, simply because she had experienced a recent run of fairly good luck in landing a couple of modest accounts.

My name is Scott Bentley, a divorced 36 year old sales manager, the late "fair haired boy" of the division. It seemed that my reign as top salesman in the company had taken a bit of a dip lately, as had all of our staff's efforts. The only department that had managed to maintain a relatively even keel during this economic downturn belonged to Cathy Stretch, a young tigress from the "new school" of marketing. She was probably around 30 years old, 5'6" tall, and obviously spent some time keeping her figure in shape. Dark brown shoulder-length hair and piercing dark-brown eyes rounded out her physical aspects. She had an almost feral aspect about her that intimidated her workmates, and a supremely cocky attitude towards her peers.

There were rumors about how she managed to find these '

client scraps'

over the past few months, but I doubted those suspicions, simply because of her observed behavior in and out of the office. She had managed to rebuff any and all advances towards her both in the office and in the field. For all intents and purposes, she appeared to be untouchable. We had no idea, after three years on the job, whether she had a boyfriend, acquaintance, girlfriend, or any type of real social life. Hell, she could be taking care of a sick little old grandmother as far as we knew. Other than being a fan of her luscious rack, and wonderfully symmetrical ass, I could really care less.

Mostly though, she just pissed all of us off. Any small victory from her department was followed by scathing sarcasm from her directed at the rest of us, questioning our intelligence, our skills, and even our manhood. Yeah, that's right... She was the only female manager in the division, and a supreme pain in the ass. After several months of taking the "Cathy whippings," the latest challenge by the new director seemed to be the last straw. It appeared to be biased in her favor, since her department was the only one in the past six months to maintain an income level that hadn't dipped beneath the quota set up for each department for the year.

Which brings me to the latest brain-child of our beloved new director: urging the four departments to surpass each other's meager sales records for the past six months. He proposed a new competition between the management staffs to exceed or match quotas for the following month. This time, he proposed, the two top sellers and the two bottom sellers would compete for one month, the winning manager of each pair getting the

services

of the losing manager for a week. Sounded simple enough in principle, but I was tired of all this bullshit gaming, and wanted to concentrate on nurturing the client relationships that had sustained us through the toughest times in this recession.

As the details of this latest challenge became clear, I became more and more determined to resist the direction all this

dog-eat-dog

competition was taking, but my challenger wouldn't let it rest. Cathy's department was number one, mine was number two, and we'd been paired as opponents for this little competition. Referring to me as "Mr. Has-been," she delighted in rubbing her small successes in my face, and letting everyone know that I

might

be a suitable replacement for her housemaid for the week when she wins. Quite frankly, I was getting pretty fed up with her shit by now, and was making sure that she and I had lots of space between us until this crap was over.

As we moved into the contest month, my first week passed without a single prospect, and I was getting a little distracted with the details of the deal. I should've paid more attention I guess, because there were virtually no limits to the extent of the

services

demanded of the losing manager, aside from legal limits. It was intended to inflict the most humiliation possible on the losing manager in order to induce the competitors to take exceptional steps to avoid being beaten. This certainly didn't endear the little bastard to me a bit, but he certainly picked the one thing that would get the most fight out'ta me. I'd be damn near willing to dip my balls in a deep fat fryer before I'd allow that little bitch to boss me around for a week.

By now, even my sales staff began referring to me as Cathy's "little bitch," until I reminded them that if they let me down, roasting in hell would be preferable to coming to work with me in the future. They knew I was deadly serious, and if they still mocked me and my predicament, they did it where I couldn't hear them. On the other hand, Cathy took pains to "drop in" from time to time, simply to aggravate me if I was in the office, or to tease whomever of my sales staff that got into her sights. One bright side to that was her smart-ass harassment kept me out of the office and in circulation within client circles.

Week two slipped by, and while my department was sucking wind as far as prospects were concerned, word was hammered into my skull by a visit from Cathy that her department had landed a small account that Friday. She also mentioned that she was already making up a list of humiliating little tasks for me to perform for her when she collected her prize. Did I ever mention that I was beginning to despise that woman?

I noted with some relief that my staff was spending less time in the office and more time on the road. This gave me some hope that I might redeem myself to some degree whenever the contest finally came to an end. You see, "face" is everything with salespeople. We live by it; we die by it. Call it pride, hubris or whatever, you shame a salesperson and you've ripped their heart out. No matter what crap fate and circumstances sent your way, you never, ever let anyone see you sweat! So, even if I lost this ridiculous contest, I'd do what I had to, head held high, and dignity intact, dammit!

Finally I began doing something I hadn't done in years. I began visiting the old haunts that I used to frequent before my divorce, the bars, bistros and gathering places that I used to attend with my ex-wife, hoping that these rarely visited places might give me some new leads. Much had changed over the years. New owners in some; new barkeeps; and new patrons, which was a relief in itself. I didn't want to bring back any of the old, painful memories. I just wanted to revisit some neglected territory in the hopes of rejuvenating my old marketing spark. The re-introductions were bittersweet with those that remained, and while their sympathies were genuine, I didn't want their pity.

Nearing the end of the third week, I finally dropped into a bar that I hadn't entered in nearly four years. I used to be here nearly every Tuesday and Friday night when I was a much younger sales hotshot. It proved to be the clincher for many profitable contracts as I entertained clients those evenings. Behind the bar though, was someone I never expected to see again. "Harbor Hattie" looked exactly the same as she always had, bleached-blond hair, unlit cigarette hanging from the side of her bright-red lips, huge tits, plunging neck-line, and lifetimes of experience marking her face. An institution, she immediately recognized me as I entered the bar, and the first words out of her mouth were, "Well, well... look what the cat dragged in." Somehow, I suddenly felt comfortable here, and I plopped onto a barstool at the bar with a feeling that I'd come home.

My ass had barely hit the stool when she delivered a large mug of Guinness, my favorite from years gone by, and said, "We missed you around here Scotty, why the long absence?" Believe it or not, as crusty and gnarly as she appeared, she had been my rock when portions of my life had gone straight to shit years ago, and she never wavered. I slowly brought her up to date on my life since I'd last talked to her, and she was mildly amused, as usual. My impression of her has always been, "Been there, done that."

Leaning over the bar to listen to me, she presented me with an expansive view of her cleavage, and I could see by the expression on her face that she knew it. Smiling up at me she said, "Tell me a little bit more about that contest, Scotty." With her, I was always Scotty. And of course, I told her everything.

After wandering down the bar and recharging a couple of drinks for her customers, she returned with a thoughtful look on her face. Looking me in the eye, she said, "You mean, all you have to do is come up with a contract or two that exceeds hers for the month, and you win?"

"Yeah," I said. "But it's not as simple as it sounds. The market now is exceedingly soft, and my department has covered nearly everything that breathes within our target area, with no results."

"Nearly everything?" she echoed. Looking back down at her, I noted that she had a smirk on her face, and she was obviously waiting for some kind of response from me.

"Ok," I said. "Just what does that mean?"

She replied, "Did it ever occur to you that you haven't been in this area for years? Hah! I've been here for centuries... well pretty close anyhow. I listen to whatever's said, whatever's thought, whatever's even considered in this dump."

"And?" I inquired.

"Well, Scotty," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth. "Remember Bobby Swanson, from Hector Industries?" Without waiting for me to reply she continued, "He's been coming in here nearly every night for the past couple of weeks, bitching about not having a competent consulting staff to pull off the biggest project of his career." I told her that I did remember him, but back then he was just a struggling young procurement manager. He was always bragging about what he could do if only he was able to gather the necessary resources to do it.

Yeah, me too. If I had everything that I needed to conquer the world, how cool that would be. For me anyhow. I'd done a couple of medium projects for them a few years ago, but the demand from them dried up as they struggled to recoup some return on their expansion efforts. That account had become just another casualty from my divorce process, just as did this bar that I remembered so fondly. Giving Hattie a bit more of my attention, I listened to her describe—in her own way of course—what the general project requirements were, and although not clear on several points, I managed to get the gist of it. She didn't know what the scope of the project was, nor details about costs or budget, but I began to learn enough to make the hairs creep up on the back of my neck. I felt back in my element.

This piece of information wasn't a whole lot, but it was certainly better than nothing, and nothing was one thing I had plenty of right now. I asked her when the last time Bobby had been in, and she informed me that he'd been there last night, but usually he came in around 7 p.m. and it was now nearly closing. Finishing the last of my Guinness, I asked Hattie to let Robert know the next time she saw him that I had a full complement of ace consultants, fresh off assignment ready to go if he was interested, and the price was right. I automatically upgraded his familiar nick-name to the formal, now that he was considered a potential client. Hattie knew that I was talking sales "bullshit" but she gave me a thumbs up as I paid my tab and left the bar. I told her on the way out that I'd be back the following evening, about 7 p.m., and I could hear her cackling laughter as I closed the door behind me.

The next morning I returned reluctantly to the office to do some quick checking up on the financial health of Hector Industries. Happily I discovered that the company had done a lot of things right, and had not only survived the economic downturn, but had thrived in it. So, that answered my question as to whether they could afford the inclusion of a consulting team, but I couldn't find any reference to any open bids for upcoming projects. That meant Robert, pure and simple. If I could convince him that our team could get him his dream project I was fairly comfortable that I'd have a counter-chip to present against Cathy's project. How quickly I could do this, and how much it would pay, I had no idea. But I wouldn't go down without a fight.

As I was completing my research however, Cathy sashayed in to my office with a smirk on her face, and asked if I were up to her increasingly bizarre requirements for my

enslavement

for the week that I'd suffer for my loss. How she'd made the jump from "services" to "enslavement" was questionable, but I ignored the comment. Hinting that I might be required to be the host at one of her "girls' night in" parties at her house, dressed in nothing but a

ball-bag

seemed to be the current theme of her taunting right now, and my blood pressure was beginning to climb. As I glanced over at her I couldn't help but notice that she'd left maybe one too many buttons undone on her blouse, giving me a rather panoramic view of the tops of her breasts. Whether it was intentional or not, I couldn't be sure, but as soon as she followed my gaze she quickly put herself in order, buttoning a couple to hide the evidence, as it were.

Since my blood was up anyhow, I took a moment or two to size her up once more. If it weren't for her exceptionally cocky competitiveness she'd look good on any lucky guy's arm or bed for that matter. That glimpse I got of her deep cleavage reminded me that she was a hottie, which undoubtedly played no small part in her business successes, not that she wasn't smart, because she certainly was one of the more shrewd marketing managers that I'd met. She just could be a real asshole when dealing with her peers. Remember what I said about the importance of "face" to a salesperson? Well, it didn't hurt that the rest of the package was extremely attractive as well.

Since I wasn't rising to her jibes at me, she put her hand on her waist, cocked her hips and began sizing me up as well. As the smirk returned to her face, I asked, "What the hell are you looking at now?"

"Just wondering," she said, "whether I could guess the size of your bikini briefs, or whether I need you to bring your own."

"I don't do bikini briefs," I snarled back at her as she turned to leave my office.

She stopped, turned around to look back at me and purred, "Remember the contest rules, Mr. Bentley: if it's not against the law, it's fair game." Watching her departing ass swaying away from me, I couldn't help but think back to the last time I got laid. Way too long ago...

Once she strolled out of sight, I gathered up all the research material I'd collected along with the dossiers of several of my best consulting staff, and headed back to the Harbor Bar. It was only 6:00 p.m., but I figured I could set the stage a bit with Hattie just in case Robert actually showed up this evening. Taking my research materials with me, I entered the bar and touched base with Hattie. Again, my Guinness magically appeared before me as I sat down on the stool, but Hattie quickly informed me that Robert had also come in early this evening—around 5:30 p.m. She'd already primed him regarding my capability and availability, and she said that he was as antsy as a virgin on prom night.

Hattie quickly waved the "high sign" over my head, and I recognized Robert as he got up from a table and took a seat next to me. After reintroductions, he got straight to the point. The next three hours consisted of "mix and match" exchanges, both with project and consultant requirements being tagged and cataloged carefully by each of us. I was in my element once more, and I felt the rush of a successful presentation flowing through me, as the dossiers of my finest consulting staff were carefully examined by Robert and matched to requirements.

He was excited, I was inwardly excited, and as the evening came to a close, all that was left was for me was to put together a formal proposal, based upon the information that we'd exchanged. The only catch was that it had to be completed within a week, because his executive committee had given him a deadline to come up with a project team before they had to go out for bids.

I had gotten to him in the nick of time, for both of us it seemed. The contest had been forgotten until now, but the ramifications of losing to Cathy came back as soon as I left the bar, and while I knew my staff would be pissed at the proposal deadline, they'd all pitch in for some late nights at the office putting it together to save our own "face." The budget for this endeavor had not been discussed, simply because neither of us had enough details to justify an estimate. I just hoped that the end payoff was enough to offset Cathy's score earlier in the month. While on my way home, I now began to think about the possibility of winning this damn contest, and what I'd do with the prize when I did. It seemed my cock had begun to appreciate some of the possibilities as well, as it had begun to swell a bit in anticipation.

Remembering her many remarks about how she intended to humiliate me when she won, I didn't feel very guilty about some of the thoughts that began to flood my mind about what I might do with her. My first thought was that she needed to be humbled just a bit, if for no other reason than to instill a little respect in her for her coworkers. Her constant shots at office staff were getting a bit too intense at times, and morale was beginning to suffer as a result. At the same time, if I could satisfy some of my own carnal curiosity, so much the better.

By the time I got home, the erotic scenarios that I'd been running through my mind had caused a painful tightening in my groin, and I rushed into my shower to stroke the pressure out of my balls. As I finished up, exhausted, I found myself looking forward to the conclusion of this contest for the first time, but for an entirely different reason.

Calling Sybil—our executive secretary--the first thing in the morning, I asked her to try to assemble my entire team into our office as soon as possible. Gathering up all my work from the previous night, I set out to do the near impossible, produce and present a customer proposal within the deadline.

As expected, Cathy had seen the activity taking place in our department and had passed by to see what we were up to. Quickly explaining to her that since we were near the end of the third week of the contest, I'd decided to gather my entire crew for a last minute brain-storming session, I escorted her back out the door. As usual, she couldn't resist a parting dig at me, saying, "I wouldn't knock yourself out too much tiger, save some energy for

my

little to-do list."