The Intern-Anchorwoman
By Rinky Dink
Jennifer walked into the sports office of WFEM-69 and quickly locked the door. She started unbuttoning her blouse as she walked to her desk, and then pulled off her skirt before plopping into her chair.
She glanced briefly at the article framed on the wall in front of her desk, “25-year-old phenom named Syracuse Sportscaster of Year”. With a picture of her toothy grin, and flowing chestnut hair accompanying the story. She gave a brief smile, before looking across at the only other person in the room.
“I really, really hate clothes!,” spat out Jennifer, a tall willowy brunette and former college lacrosse player. “I don’t know why but lately, every day, I resent the fact that I have to wear them for societal reasons more and more.”
Steven looked up from the baseball game he had been logging highlights for.
“What can I tell you, “He said with a shrug. “I interned for the most radical, extreme women’s rights person ever, and she always wore clothes, actually, pretty stylish ones. Not just with me in the office.”
“Well, maybe that is why I’ve totally rejected that women’s superiority bull your old boss was pushing,” said Jennifer. “You know me, I work here because it is a network affiliate, so my path to a job in New York is easier. Not because all the employees have to be women. Get a job because you earn it, I want nothing handed to me because I have a vagina.”
“Ratings have gone up since the (news director) Tanya put in the ‘Just US Girls’ format,” said Steven. “Luckily, I am just an unpaid intern, so the rule does not affect me.”
Jennifer was now in a bra and panties, as she got up and strode with her long legs to the center of the room, where a bank of TVs displayed various sports.
“Look, I know you interned for the now world-renowned Dr. Stephanie Schmidt, who wrote the book that every woman has to read ‘The Sex Led Life’, she said, as her voice got softer. “I’ve never read it and have no need for it. Although Tanya quotes it all the time, like its scripture.
“Me and you fuck like bunnies, without her ravings. Basic fact is, you are 24, I’m 25, and we’re boyfriend-girlfriend. Keep it simple. And I am very, very happy with our current sex life.”
Jennifer then put her arms around Steven and nuzzled his neck. He turned around, and, in an instant, Jennifer had pulled down her panties. He quickly turned around and jammed his quickly enlarged penis into her, as her long hair blew back as her head jerked in ecstasy.
Steven finished shooting his load into her quickly, Jennifer quickly bent down to lick all the cum on his dick that remained, moaning like she was tasting the nectar of the gods.
Steven then turned around and went back to the game he was watching. Jennifer shuffled back to her desk and began typing her script for the night’s show.
It had been just four minutes since Jennifer had walked through the door.
With the game over, Steven dropped the log sheet on Jennifer’s desk. She would have to go into an editing bay to create highlights to show from the game.
“Oh, by the way, my breast enhancement surgery is scheduled for next Thursday,” said Jennifer matter of factly, as she looked over the sheet. “You know how much I hate wearing bras, so I will hate having to wear a bigger one even more.
“We need to strengthen my upper body. When completed, I want them to jut out like torpedoes, but naturally. I’m thinking of upping my workouts with you and make them far more intense.”
“I’ll pass that on to my boss,” said Steven. “Remember, I am just officially part-time as a trainer there. He has to work me in between everyone else.”
“Well, for what I pay, I am sure he will have no problem clearing more space,” said Jennifer with a laugh. “I hope you get a piece of it.”
(Actually, Steven was an independent contractor, so he really rented the space from the gym and kept everything outside of the rental fee.)
It was close to where she had to report to the set. Jennifer, with a sour face, began putting her clothes back on. She then casually said:
“Oh, almost forgot, the three interns for Tracee Davis want to meet with you. I told them 5 p.m. is a good time, I’m editing, and the afternoon games are over. “
Steven gave her a quizzical look.
“Do you know why,” he asked. “I barely know them. Tracee is the morning anchor; they are done by 7 a.m. Outside of the intern orientation meeting, I don’t think I’ve even been in the same room as them.”
Jennifer shrugged her shoulders, now covered in a thin, tight red silk blouse.
“Don’t know, didn’t care enough to ask,” she said. “I do know they are the three hottest interns at the station. Tracee always hires the pretty ones, makes me think she is a dyke, except I heard she slept her way to the anchor chair, back when men were in charge.
“Anyhow, thank goodness I am not on the morning news, Tracee is another nutball, always nattering on about some ‘women thing’. Kind of a hypocrite, because she is like this super-hot blonde, and I know her ratings are high because men are too busy wanking over her to listen to her lectures.”
“And you are not worried about one of these great looking interns stealing me away,” asked Steven with a smile.
“I said they were the best-looking interns,” said Jennifer as she went to him and smiled. “I’m the best looking of all, at this station.
“And I can always ‘claim’ you. You would have no choice but to be my willing slave.”
“Hey, I thought you didn’t read the book?,” said Steven.
“I haven’t,” she said, and then winked. “But on some long road trips, I might have listened to the audiobook.”
Jennifer gave Steven a quick kiss , unlocked the door, and left.
Jennifer was correct, these three were far better looking than any female intern he had seen, not only at the TV station, but even back when he was a college intern.
Bridget had flaming red hair, smooth legs, cute light freckles on her face and a curvy body.
Charlotte was tall, maybe 5-foot-9, Steven guessed, and had raven black hair, a dancer’s legs, and bright blue eyes.
Kacie was tiny, maybe 5-foot and 95 pounds, but she had a rockin’ body and a chest way out of proportion to her small size. She had grey eyes and natural blonde hair.
And all three of them were sobbing hysterically.
To see Kacie’s massive chest bounce might have normally turned Steven on, but he was too busy dishing out tissues as they wailed and cried. This was not a situation he has experience dealing with.
Apparently, Tracee was a monster, at least to her interns.
Bridget talked about how Tracee flew into a rage in her private office, when Bridget mistakenly put cream in her morning coffee, as she liked it black.
“You drink it!,” she had screamed, as she flung it in Bridget’s face. Her only good dress was ruined by the coffee stains and, when they are alone, Tracee called her ‘the crazed creamer’.
Charlotte was from a prominent local family and had gone to boarding school. To torture her, Tracee would swear like a sailor, burp, and fart when they were alone, knowing the delicate Charlotte would be mortified by such actions. But also knowing the proper-mannered Charlotte would not say a word in protest.
Kacie was religious, she wore a prominent crucifix on her large chest, and Tracee delighted in having her research stories totally against her beliefs.
“She said to work on researching local Satanic cults, always makes me work Sunday mornings, so I can’t go to church, and calls me ‘God Girl’ when no one is around.”
The worst part, if that was not enough, Tracee expected her interns to run personal errands for her.
“We schedule her nail appointments, pick up her laundry, go to the bank for her, she even makes us go shopping at the supermarket to get her groceries,” Charlotte. “Every day at 2 p.m., Bridget has to go to her house to walk her dog.”
When the wailing finally went down a notch, Steven asked: “Well, it sounds awful, why don’t you just quit.”
“We … we can’t,” said Charlotte, in-between sobs.
“All of this is when she is just with us, she is bright and cheery and everyone loves her as the person who goes to so many charity events to help people,” said Kacie. “They don’t realize it’s an act. She loves preening at those balls and being fussed over as a celebrity. She could not care less about the charity.”
“And she is a local legend,” said Bridget. “She became an anchor at 21, fucking anyone with influence at the station to get it. To quit, she could ruin us, our chances at a career in TV news would be over.”
“OK,” said Steven. “By the way, why are all three of you in short skirts or mini dresses. I can see pretty much, uh, almost everything with you sitting there. And the showing of all that cleavage is kind of interesting too. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
“We have too,” cried Charlotte. “Tracee said her intern dress code was mini-skirts or dresses that ended above the knee. And all tops must show cleavage.”
“She says we’re women first, interns second,” said Kacie.
Steven knew from past experience that, unless he had ‘influenced’ them, female interns always dressed super-conservative, to prove their seriousness.
“I appreciate your problem, I have been lucky in that Jennifer has been a … very supportive boss,” said Steven. “But what can I do about it? I’m just an intern like you three.”
The comely trio looked at each other, Bridget then spoke:
“Tracee totally worships your old boss, Dr. Stephanie Schmidt,” she said. “She has an autographed copy of ‘The Sex Led Life’ on her desk. She made us all read it and gives us quizzes. If we miss a question, she berates us for being stupid whores.”
“We know the book involves a lot about hypnosis, which we assume you were involved in, as her intern,” said Charlotte. “Tracee recently said to us she wants to quit smoking and heard hypnosis was a quick way of doing it. Kacie said the guy who helped Schmidt with the book is interning here, he must have learned about it.”
“Tracee grabbed me by the blouse and said ‘Schmidt’s intern? Get him for me please!’,” said Kacie. “It, for once, was not mean, she was just excited.”
“Having me stop her from smoking really does not help your situation,” said Steven.
“Well,” said Bridget slowly. “We were kind of hoping while she was in trance, you might add a suggestion or two.”
“Like stop being a prick to your interns?” said Steven.
“Bingo!” said Kacie, her crucifix bouncing as she half-shouted.
Steven thought about it and came up with an idea.
“I think I might have a plan to help you, and Tracee, and possibly me,” said Steven.
Steven researched the locally famous Tracee Davis, and got even more enthused about seeing her.
Her age was listed at 43 but she had this absolutely perfect eggshell white skin. She had not a single wrinkle on her face and looked much younger. If Steven had been told she was 25-year-old Jennifer’s twin, he would not have questioned it.
Her legs were spectacular and on her social media she had pictures of her at a gym (which will soon change, thought Steven) working out. Her chest was a nice B cup (that will also change, thought Steven). She did do a ton of charity work, mostly women’s causes, so she would be prone to like Dr. Schmidt’s way-out views. Interestingly, she had never married.
Steven arranged to meet her at 8 a.m. in the sports office. No one would be in there for hours. And all of the stuff he would need was already there.
When Tracee showed up, Steven gulped a bit. Seeing her perfect bone structure, supple legs and smokin’ body up close took a second to digest. As Jennifer said, any man watching her, had to be wanking.
“As soon as the girls said that Stephanie Schmidt’s intern was here, I ran to my autographed copy and I saw your name in the dedication,” said Tracee excitedly, as Steven motioned her to sit in front a screen that now covered the bank of TV monitors. “Did you ever expect it to be this huge?”
“She did,” said Steven, as he turned his back to her and got what he needed. “I have to admit, it’s massive success surprised me a bit. But good for her. One of her protégé’s, who had just become a professor at our college, moved to Japan to be her business manager, it’s gotten so huge.”
Steven had an unknowingly mind-controlled Stephanie basically sign over to him everything she owned on the last day of his college internship. But she still held the future royalty rights for the book. Steven had turned her into a raving sex maniac, and he had not calculated anyone would want to read a book about how to be a raving sex maniac.
“Great, I love powerful women,” said Tracee. “When she is done running the college in Japan, I would die to get an interview, she is like one of my idols.”
“I’m still in touch with her business manager, Jessica. When she makes a tour of the States, I will see what I can do,” said Steven.
“That would be so great,” said Tracee, who suddenly looked up and studied Steven for the first time. Being a gym instructor, he was a pretty buff guy. “Hey, how old are you? Most interns are kids.”
“I’m 24,” said Steven, as he pointed Tracee to look at the screen now filled with swirling patterns. “I went into the Army for a couple of years out of high school.
“Wow, thank you for your service,” said Tracee, a bit distantly as she had begun looking at the swirls.
“Well, a lot of men and women, sacrificed more than me,” said Steven. “I was assigned to help manage USO tours. Met a hypnotist who had been a Vegas act for many years. He showed me a lot of tricks, and I was able to pass that knowledge off to Steffi, help her improve her techniques.
“I spent my college internship basically having hypnotizing battles with her (‘Which he always won,’ thought Steven). Good times.”
“I would have killed to be a fly on the wall for those,” said Tracee, who despite her super-bitch reputation, was acting extremely nice, the opposite of the way she treated her interns.
“Well, you are about to experience what every first-timer who visited her office went through,” said Steven. “You will feel a little pinch on the back of your beck, ignore it, part of the process.”
Tracee was starting to fall into the spirals, but she did manage a ‘did you say pinch?” before Steven plunged a needle into the base of Tracee’s skull and pushed a clear liquid into her.
Tracee breathed heavily as she looked down upon Steven in the pull-out sofa, a sheen of sweat across her tanned (everywhere Steven noted) body. Her blonde, well-styled tresses, flying over to one side.
“Maybe she wasn’t Ms. Personality” thought Steven. “But, damn, she was hot as hell and she could fuck. Any thought of her being a dyke had quickly gone out the window as she showed off moves and swirls Steven had not experienced before.
Yes, this was right.
“That was awesome,” she panted. “What did we go, like 45 minutes of straight screwing. I haven’t dowe that since I was 22, but I never had a … call it partner … like you.”
“Do you want a cigarette now to celebrate,” asked Steven.
Tracee’s eyes widened. She tilted her head, her perfect porcelain skins showing off a glow.
“You know what, for the first time since I was like 16, I have no desire to have a smoke after sex,” said Tracee. “That settles it.”
Steven blinked innocently, as Tracee put her hand on his head.
“As a woman, I exercise my right to claim you for myself,” she said with authority. “You will now accept your new life as slave.”
Steven paused for a second, and then said: “I acknowledge your clam. I am now you’re willing slave, I await your orders Mistress.”
Tracee got a big grin.
“Shit, I have Dr. Stephanie Schmidt’s personal sex slave now serving me,” she said. “This is so exciting.”
“I am glad you are pleased,” said Steven. “Dr. Schmidt trained me to serve strong, beautiful women of power like you. You will receive no resistance from me. I belong entirely to you.”
Tracee then got a quizzical look on her face. It was kind of odd to see someone with no frown lines get a pout.
“I haven’t read the book in like a year,” she asked. “Are there any restrictions?”
“Just two Mistress,” said Steven, as he had made sure to include them in Stephanie’s original programming.
“First, I can refuse anything that does physical harm to myself or others. Like, you can’t order me to jump off a building or go beat someone up.”
“That’s fair,” said Tracee.
“Number two,” he said. “I don’t do housework. Dr. Schmidt’s says: ‘You’re a slave not a maid’.”
“I have a cleaning service come to my place once a week,” said Tracee. “That’s no biggee.”
“Dr. Schmidt programmed me to really be a modified sex slave,” said Steven. “Making sure your pussy is getting the maximum amount of pleasure is my reason for living.”
“Sounds good,” said Tracee. “Hey now that you are my slave, you can’t lie to me or anything, right.”
“No mistress,” said Steven. “And Dr. Schmidt used to ask me advice on various things. As her brainwashed slave, she knew I always had her best interest at heart and knew whatever I told her was unvarnished truth.”
“Makes sense, I am sure I will be asking your advice on a lot of things” said Tracee. “So, what did you do to stop my craving for cigarettes.”
“Replaced it with something else,” said Steven. “I switched your addiction from cigarettes to sex. You are now a fuck toy who could not care less about cigarettes. Puffing cigarettes takes time away from screwing.”
Tracee gave a wide-eyed look, then said: “That is … brilliant. I can’t think about smoking if I am fucking somebody. Fuck toy, fuck toy! I am a non-smoking fuck toy!”
Tracee’s joyful demeanor turned quickly somber.
“But one thing. I, well, slept with a bunch of guys who were, coincidentally, people of influence at this station at the time. I was 21 and horny as hell. Now, everyone who was at the station back then is gone, so they don’t know the real story. But I still get slapped with ‘She slept her way to the anchor chair’, even though it was 22 freakin’ years ago and we are the top-rated morning news show in the city.
“But no one cares. I am still ‘Tracee the Slut’, so I don’t want my new, um, hobby, to involve station employees, even though your asshole boss, Jennifer, is really hot.”
“While you were under hypnosis, you told me of your concerns,” said Steven. “Obviously, I will contribute to slaking your now enormous craving for sex. But your interns are constantly with you, and their job is to make your job easier, so, I recommend you seduce each of your interns and establish a purely sexual relationship with all three.
“Maybe offer to pay for lessons from me at the gym, that could go a long way. Make sure you make it clear this is not dating or will lead in some way to a relationship. Just some fun girl sex.”
“Well, my interns are really good looking this year, all 10s, so no problem for me to do that,” said Tracee. “And the gym idea is excellent, they all talk about keeping in shape to look good for future auditions.”
“Glad you agree, not sure how you felt about them.” said Steven who knew exactly what she would say. He had run through everything with Tracee while she was staring blankly at the spirals on the screen with mind-relaxing drugs coursing through her. He knew what she would do and what programming orders she might fight.
When it came to sex, her ran through the gamut, and she never uttered an objection to anything.
“Oh, I am sure they think I am a super-bitch,” said Tracee with a wave of her well-manicured right hand. “These dopey kids don’t know how hard it is for a really attractive female to make it in this business. All I got my first 10 years was criticism of the way I dressed, called ‘whore’ and ‘slut’ every other day on social media. Heaven forfend I put on a couple pounds coming back from a vacation. All I would get is pictures of pigs.
“It’s tough love. They don’t like it now, but they will come back in 10 years and thank me.”
Steven breathed a sigh of relief. He really did not want to act as the slave to a nasty person, who knew what things they would make you do. Tracee might work out just fine.
“OK slave, this fuck toy has talked enough for now,” she said. “Get back to your job, fucking me.”
“One question,” said Steven. “Steffi hated when I called her ‘Mistress’ when no one was around, even though that is what she was. What is your pronoun preference?”
Tracee looked at Steven like a lioness at a piece of meat. Her clit was throbbing with need. She loved the feeling. But, as a new owner, she had to deal with the details.
“Mistress is fine,” she said.