"The name's Hank, Hank Billiton."

Sandra's heart leapt to her mouth.

Hank Billiton? The Hank Billiton? Hank "Bil'" Billiton?

"Aren't you -"

"The one and only." Hank interrupted with his arms outstretched.

Not many people would know who Hank was, but Sandra, who read the Forbes 400 list for fun, knew exactly the kind of man Hank portrayed himself as in the media.

As far as Sandra was concerned, Hank was basically a man's man. The article she read about him made her think about a powerful, brooding man. A man ruthless in the business world and strict about maintaining the sanctity of his private life.

Sandra didn't think that she'd know much about him, at least not from the media anyway. But from just five minutes of personal interaction with Hank, she just couldn't shake this unnerving feeling welling up from within her.

He stepped forward, making her cringe instinctively. Would he employ judicious use of that truncheon in his hand?

Sandra didn't know, and she was sure as hell uncertain as to whether she wanted to find out.

Hank licked his lips.

"From the moment you fell at my feet I knew that I had to have you. What more, I know you want me as much as I want you right now."

Sandra stared at Hank in disbelief. His confidence (or delusions) was infectious.

Sure his overconfident demeanor did offend Sandra somewhat, but she liked men who knew what they want and didn't hesitate to go after it.

"What makes you think I want you?" Sandra ventured, challenging his faux authority.

Hank gripped the handle of the black stick so tightly the white of his knuckles were showing, sending fresh chills down Sandra's spine.

"If you didn't want me you'd be struggling and screaming at me to release you. So why haven't you?"

Sandra found herself not knowing how to respond.

Hank smiled at her stunned silence.

"Listen babe, I own you. Your life's tied to the pittance of a wage my company gives you. So be a good girl for a day or enjoy unemployment."

Sandra kept mum. She felt threatened and helpless, but despite her whir of distress, strange twisted arousal engulfed her body.

"Y-yes, Hank."

With the truncheon raised high into the air, Sandra found her shivering self cringing at the thought of getting beaten with Hank's thick black stick.

The sonic boom of air ripping through her eardrums made her yelp as Hank brought the stick down hard onto the wall behind Sandra.

It overwhelmed her with its power, firmly showing her who's boss around here.

Blind fear coursed through her veins as Hank stared right into her scared blue eyes. At this moment Sandra knew that she would be complying with any request from Hank, no matter how ludicrous.

"You mean, 'Yes, Master.', don't you, Sandra?"

"Y-yes," Sandra's voice dropped to a whisper, "master."