The next morning, right before lunch, I'm bent over Vivian's desk being f****d like never before. The same position as the HR lady, in the exact same spot, the same thrusts. I'm facing her collection of heels which are placed on a file cabinet by the wall. Those heels are worth thousands -- Louboutins with signature red soles, Manolo Blahniks with sky-high stilettos, and Jimmy Choos that shimmer. Every muscle in my lower back and bottom screams in protest as I hold the impossible prone position. This, apparently, is part of the initiation. Vivian had called it a 'test of focus and determination.' Focus? Maybe. Determination? Absolutely. But most of my attention is focused on the searing burn in my core from the black six-inch strap. Humiliation flares within me. I can feel her breathing ag
