Harold Jenkins being interviewed by Madison Summers (his view)

As I sit here in my room at the retirement home, a mischievous grin spreads across my face. Today is the day, the day I get to indulge in my deepest desires, the day I bring a lady to her knees and make her my obedient ****. The anticipation courses through my veins, igniting a fire within me that cannot be extinguished.

I close my eyes, picturing the scene that will unfold before me. The door to my room creaks open, and a beautiful woman enters, her eyes filled with a mixture of innocence and curiosity. Who will she be today? A shy librarian, a seductive nurse, or perhaps a submissive secretary? The possibilities are endless, and it excites me to no end.

I imagine the roleplay, the initial innocent conversation that slowly transitions into something more sinister. My voice, laced with authority and dominance, commands her to undress, to reveal the luscious curves of her body. The anticipation builds as I imagine the softness of her skin under my fingertips, the heat emanating from her body as I explore every inch of her.

Her resistance, futile and feeble, only fuels my desire. I revel in the power I hold over her, the way she surrenders to my every whim. I imagine the sound of her moans, music to my ears, as I push her boundaries, testing her limits. I relish in the taste of her submission, the heady mixture of pleasure and pain that washes over us both.

In my mind, I see her transformed into a willing ****, stripped of her autonomy, existing solely for my pleasure. The thought of her helplessness, her complete surrender, fills me with a primal satisfaction that cannot be contained. She becomes my plaything, a vessel for my desires, and I take pleasure in molding her to my will.

My heart skips a beat as someone enters the room, catching me off guard with her undeniable attractiveness. Her luscious, long hair cascades down her back, its silky strands begging to be tangled in my fingers. Her eyes, like pools of liquid desire, hold a certain sparkle that ignites a fire within me.

She introduces herself as Madison, her sensual lips curling into a smile that sends a surge of desire coursing through my veins. Two hours too early, she arrived. How intriguing. The anticipation grows, fueled by the mystery surrounding her unexpected presence. What does she truly desire? Is she aware of the depths of my desires, the taboo fantasies that consume my thoughts?

Madison's voice carries a hint of confidence, a seductive undertone that suggests she may be more than she appears. She mentions an interview, but her words seem to carry a double meaning, a hidden agenda that sets my imagination ablaze. I will be fun to make her fulfill my darkest fantasies, to submit to my every command.

A surge of desire washes over me as I gaze at Madison, her body exuding an intoxicating aura of sensuality. I can feel the stirrings of my desire, a primal hunger awakening within me, ready to seize this opportunity. The thought of Madison willingly succumbing to my dominance, to be my plaything, sends a shiver down my spine.

"Yes, Madison," I reply, my voice laced with a mixture of eagerness and authority. "I have all the time in the world for you. Ask away, my dear, and let us see where this interview takes us."

Madison's beauty is not her only captivating quality; she possesses an undeniable talent for acting. As she seamlessly weaves her words into the conversation, I can sense a subtle hint, a carefully placed suggestion that she intends to offer herself to me, body and soul.

Her words flow effortlessly, each sentence laced with a hidden meaning that only I can decipher. The way she leans in closer, her body language subtly inviting, tells me that she understands the depths of my desires and is more than willing to fulfill them. "I promise you that I will do my best. It's important that we take your experience and opinions into account so that we can make improvements." It's as if she has stepped right out of one of my wildest fantasies, a living embodiment of the submissive partner I've yearned for.

"You could be naked," I suddenly say with a mischievous grin. Now she is really in character, playing the innocent interviewer. In the meantime, I press the remote control to lock the door.

As she bares herself to me, I can feel the mixture of shame and humiliation that permeates her. Every inch of her skin is a testament to her submission. She has **** but to present herself to me as if she were a piece of meat on a platter.

I can feel my desire for her growing with every piece of clothing she removes. The lust that flows through me is almost overwhelming. I want to possess her, hold her in my hands and subject her to my darkest fantasies.

Her movements are deliberate, as if she wants to prolong the anticipation. With tantalizing slowness, she peels off her black top, exposing her luscious breasts adorned in a golden bra. The fabric clings to her skin, emphasizing the curves and swells, leaving nothing to my imagination. My gaze burns into her, a predator fixated on its prey, as the last remnants of modesty and self-assurance are stripped away. I have never seen such a convincing escort lady in this role.

My breath catches in my throat as her hands move to the zipper of her skirt. I can feel the tremor in her fingers, a physical manifestation of her surrender. The skirt falls to the floor, leaving her standing before me in nothing but that golden bra and skimpy panties. The sight of her exposed and **** form ignites a primal hunger within me. She is a toy, ready to be played with, at my complete and utter whim.

When Kathrin arrives at the retirement home, the door to Harold's apartment is locked. As she listens at the door, she hears the screams of a woman. Is it pain or lust, she can't tell. Harlod seems to be getting in the mood for her with some porn, but he doesn't respond to her knocking. The door opposite is open. She asks the gentleman about Harold, but the only thing he can remember is a lady from headquarters who disappeared into the room two hours ago for her annual satisfaction survey.