How do things like this begin? Is this a madness, or a moment of weakness? What makes a perfectly sane woman lose herself in such a shameful way?

I remember when I first saw her. I was at my boss's home. She had me stop by to go over some paperwork for her latest acquisition. Out of kindness she had me stay for dinner, and that's where I first saw her.

Dorothy, that was her name, Dorothy Smith. With her long black hair, and deep brown eyes. My first thoughts of her were nothing special. Nothing to be afraid of. I just noticed how lovely she was. I thought she would make someone, someone else - of course, a beautiful wife someday. I felt that she would certainly grow into a beautiful woman in just a few years. She was well behaved and intelligent, and in every way the perfect young lady. My boss was proud of her daughter. She went on and on the whole dinner about how she would progress in life. To an Ivy League school, to a high powered job, and be just as rich and successful as her mother. Some might have thought it was bragging, but when you looked in Dorothy's eyes, you could see here was a girl growing into womanhood, and was not about to let anything stand in the way of what she wanted.

Later that night, My boss and I finished our work, and she took me up to her room. It's an odd thing being your employer's mistress. In truth I never thought of such a thing in my youth, when I studied business day and night.

But when I met my boss, well, she just had a power over me. It wasn't like I was a window dressing or just a piece of office tail. I was a capable employee, and I am certain that it was my actual skills in the office that got me the job as her personal assistant. On occasion, I was asked to run various errands that were not business related, and I occasionally relieved my employer's stress and frustration in an equally unprofessional manner. I have always felt that these things were necessary for the job. Whether it was making coffee, picking up dry cleaning, or other things that I might feel below my actual training level, it was still part of what was expected of me.

The fact that every so often I slept with her, well that was just a perk. I had no illusions about her, however. She did not love me, and she saw me as nothing more then an employee; but it made me feel useful, and we did have fun.

I was not supposed to spend the night (My employer took her appearance to the out side world and her daughter very seriously) , so after all the work and play was done I left my boss's home. As I walked to my car I looked up and saw Dorothy in her bed room window. She was so exquisite. Her long black hair framed her face so starkly against the darkness of her room. I looked away a little ashamed that she saw me and knew what I had done. When Dorothy looked at me, I felt worse then a slut. I felt like a whore, a piece of office tail, someone who's main goal in life was to service her mother. I turned away and rushed into my car and drove home as quickly as I could.

Her dark eyes haunted me as I stared at my self in the bathroom mirror. A small tear formed within me. I pressed it back down into my heart. I do not like to show emotion. I do not like to show weakness, especially when I am showing it to myself. As I stood there imagining myself, seeing myself for what I was: a piece of meat, the property of my employer ... and a hand me down to her daughter.

I recoiled form my own thoughts. What was I thinking? Dorothy could be no more then sixteen. A child, twelve years my junior. But once you enter the darkness of your own mind can you ever go back?

I shower, trying so desperately to wash away my shame, and my revulsion at the unbidden thoughts. Icy cold water shocking my skin making it tighten and shiver. I need to be as far away from sensation as possible. I left the shower somewhat refreshed, but still haunted by my dreams.

I lay in bed, unclothed as always, but for the first time since I was a small child I felt truly naked. As if the world was watching me, judging me, laughing at me. My sleep was anything but restful. I could simply not relax.

The thought of the eyes of the world upon me. The thought of what people would think of me if they knew. If they knew I was an office whore, and a... no I cannot even voice the words in my own mind. The idea of being with Dorothy filled my mind. I know what that makes me but I beg in my heart to take this nightmare of self-doubt away. I try desperately to calm down. I am a valued employee, I have never done anything to anyone under legal age.

I am not my fears. I was not my dark side. I fought with myself, and drove it down. I closed my eyes, and slept. When I awoke from my fitful sleep I realized my sheets were soaked with my panicked sweat, as well as my arousal. Flames lit my cheeks as my own embarrassment over came me. I cleaned myself up, showered away my shame and left for work.

The next morning at the office, my employer called me into her office. She informed me that Dorothy would be working an internship at the office, and that, in addition to my usual responsibilities, I would be in charge of making sure that Dorothy was shown the necessities of the business. I acknowledged her, and went back to my desk to get to work on my duties for the day. A few minutes later, Dorothy showed up at my desk. She smiled at me with a smug little smile. She knows, I think. She knows the thoughts that permeate my mind. I try to compose myself and look at her. Trying to achieve some status in this relationship. I tell her that her mother has asked me to initiate her into the office procedures. Dorothy just looked at me. She was attentive, but I could still sense a contempt in her heart for me. Did she truly struggle to take me seriously, or is my own self doubt driving me mad?

I try to read her attitudes to me, but my mind is so driven by my own fears I come off as more of a fool for trying.

We worked very closely that whole day. I tried so hard to conceal my thoughts from her. With everything I told her, I could feel myself grow more aroused by her. I had to run to the bathroom several times just to get away from her.

I looked at myself in the executive wash room mirror. I splashed some water in my face. What is wrong with me? What kind of person am I? I hear the door open behind me and see my employer enter behind me. She asked me how I was doing - if Dorothy was performing up to the standards that were expected. I told her that everything was progressing well. I told her that Dorothy was just as sharp and intelligent as she thought. After she finished her college, she would no doubt make a valuable asset to the team. Then my employer asked me what I thought of her daughter personally. My mouth went dry, and I am certain all color left my face. I managed to eek out a whispered response to the effect that I found her daughter an excellent person. I tried so hard to hide my shame, but I know my boss saw it in my face. I could feel her dark eyes probing me. She knew... she had to know. I could feel my heart drop. I knew I would be fired, I knew I would be turned out with nothing when she learned that I was thinking of her daughter. What was wrong with me? What kind of monster am I?

Then my employer informed me that I should stop by her house again tonight. Twice in one week? Was I to service her again, or was this simply her way of getting me alone so she could fire me, humiliate me, destroy me? I was a wreck, but I managed to keep my emotions buried deep. I simply smiled and thanked her, and told her I would be there at six.

The rest of the day was hell. Every look from Dorothy sent me closer and closer to the edge. With every smile I knew she could hear my thoughts. With every glance I knew she was deciding what to do with me. Am I paranoid? Am I a deviant? What is wrong with me? When the clock struck five, I ran out, my work partially unfinished. I had to decide what to do. Would I admit my wrong doing to my employer, and beg for mercy? Would I tender my resignation now, and just avoid the scandal? In my darkest mind I dreamed of surrendering into another option.

I arrived at my employer's house at six on the button. I composed myself and entered into the house. I immediately felt cold and alone. I felt foolish, for not being in control of my own thoughts. I saw Dorothy walk towards me.

She told me that her mother would not be there tonight, and that she had wanted me to have dinner with her daughter. She wanted me to socialize with her, and help her along with her college decisions. Was this a plot? Was this a fantasy? What was happening to the world around me? Am I mad?

I had no real time to answer these questions, as Dorothy led me to the dinning room, and we sat down. A delivered pizza, hot and aromatic was on the table, and Dorothy sat across from me. I could hear her speaking to me... or at me... the words just washed over me. In my mind I looked at her face, and down to her beautifully high and rounded chest. Such a goddess she was, I thought.

My mind raced and recoiled form this madness. How can I be thinking these thoughts? Why am I so driven to serve this girl? What is her power over me?

I tried with all my might to keep up with the small talk. To answer her questions, to be a gracious guest. It was all a mockery. My mind was a cauldron of immoral and impractical thoughts. But my shame, and my guilt were so quickly fading. I am a bit of office tail. I serve powerful women. I serve this girls mother, and I know I will serve her when the time is right.

I feel a moistness growing in my eyes, and wetness rolling down my cheek as she looks me saying nothing, staring at me. For a moment I wonder if she realizes what I am going through. I feel embarrassed that I am crying, but she is pretending every thing is still O.K. She looks away from me, staring out the window for a moment. She then snatches a Kleenex and throws it at me.

Dorothy impatiently tells me to blow my nose and I do. She stares down at me and locks my gaze with her powerful eyes. I am lost in her face as her lips form words. The words echo through my skull as she asks me if some day I will serve her daughter as well? My throat goes dry again. This was the first time the words have been spoken out loud; the first time my darkest fears were verified; the first time my madness became real. I felt a growing wetness between my legs as I tearfully nodded. Dorothy tried to smile down at me, but it came out as a malevolent smirk. Our roles are firm now. She wipes my face with a sad look of compassion. I regain my composure and we continue to talk as if nothing had happened.

We walk into the living room, and relax. Dorothy leans against me. She continues to talk to me: about school choices; about favorite things. Each word is burned into me. I record this girls life into me. I must know all I can. I need to learn to anticipate her every need.

I slide down off the couch, and rest my head in my new owners lap. She owns me, and I need to be hers. A tear of joy falls down my cheek as I look up at her. She looks down and smiles at me, with that wicked knowing smile.

A new life was beginning for me. A copy of my old one, but somehow different. Her mother used me, and I used her. We were lovers who did not love. In this girl... this young woman who's power flows so greatly from her, I can see something so very special for me. My hands grip tightly to my love. This woman whom I will serve for as long as she will let me. Always her smile stares down on me. Humiliating me, perhaps, but always filling me with passion. I need her, and will always need her. Today I am happy.