Call in her secretary for some "private" time

You press the intercom button on Renata's desk with her mechanical hand, feeling the cold metal finger against the small depression. The sensation sends a small thrill through your borrowed body—every movement in this powerful form feels charged with authority.

"Send Vira to my chambers immediately," you command, recalling the name from Renata's mental rolodex of subordinates. Vira Kincaid, her personal secretary—young, ambitious, and according to Renata's subconscious impressions, desperately eager to climb the corporate ladder of Glasc Industries.

You take a moment to admire yourself in Renata's full-length mirror. Her body is impressive—mature but powerful, with curves maintained through chemical treatments of her own design. You run the warm flesh hand over her breast, feeling the nipple harden under your touch while the mechanical hand grips your hip with perfect pressure. The dual sensation makes you gasp.

"Madame Glasc?" A gentle knock at the door interrupts your self-exploration. "You requested me?"

"Enter," you command, quickly composing yourself into Renata's usual dignified posture.

Vira slips through the door, closing it quietly behind her. She's in her mid-twenties, with chestnut hair pulled into a severe bun and intelligent green eyes behind stylish glasses. Despite the late hour, her blouse and skirt are impeccably pressed. She carries a tablet, clearly assuming this is about work.

"I have the quarterly reports ready for review," Vira begins professionally, though her eyes flicker momentarily to your nightgown before returning to your face.

"That's not why I called you here," you purr with Renata's rich voice. "Lock the door, Vira."

The secretary hesitates for just a heartbeat before complying. When she turns back, there's understanding in her eyes, mixed with both apprehension and excitement.

"Am I correct in assuming this isn't about the Chem-Baron Council meeting preparations?" she asks, her voice steady despite the flush creeping up her neck.

"Perceptive as always," you reply, gesturing her closer with the mechanical hand. "I've been watching you, Vira. Your... dedication to Glasc Industries is admirable."

"Thank you, Madame," she responds, stepping closer. Her perfume—expensive but subtle—reaches you. "I've always believed in giving everything to the company."

"Everything?" you challenge, reaching out to take the tablet from her hands and placing it on the bedside table. Your mechanical fingers trail up her arm, the cool metal making her shiver visibly. "Show me."

Vira swallows hard but doesn't hesitate. She reaches up and removes her glasses, placing them beside her tablet. Then, with practiced efficiency that suggests this isn't the first such encounter, she begins unbuttoning her blouse.

"Is this what you desire, Madame?" she asks, her voice dropping to a husky whisper as she reveals a lacy black bra containing full, youthful breasts.

"Continue," you command, settling into an armchair to watch the show. Your borrowed body throbs with anticipation, and you feel a wetness building between Renata's thighs. "And do be thorough. I expect excellence in all things, as you well know."

Vira's skirt falls to the floor, revealing matching black underwear and garters holding up sheer stockings. She stands before you, nearly naked, awaiting further instruction with an expression that perfectly balances submission and ambition.

"Now come here," you order, patting your lap. "Show me exactly how far you're willing to go for Glasc Industries."

You beckon Vira closer with a crooked metal finger, the gesture unmistakably commanding. Renata's body thrums with anticipation as Vira approaches, her eyes never leaving yours—a perfect blend of submission and calculation.

"On your knees," you order, your borrowed voice rich with authority. "Show me how eager you are to please Glasc Industries."

Vira sinks gracefully to her knees before you, her bare thighs touching the plush carpet. With practiced movements, she places her hands on your knees, gently parting Renata's legs. The silk nightgown slides up your thighs with her touch.

"May I, Madame?" she asks, her breath warm against your inner thigh.

You respond by lifting the nightgown higher, revealing Renata's sex—surprisingly well-maintained for a woman of her standing and age. You can feel how wet you've become in this borrowed body, arousal evident in the glistening folds now exposed to your ambitious secretary.

"Don't make me wait," you command, leaning back in the chair, both your flesh and mechanical hands gripping the armrests.

Vira's tongue makes first contact with exquisite precision—a testing stroke that sends electricity up your spine. You gasp, Renata's voice higher than you've heard it yet. The sensation is magnificent, more intense than you expected. Renata's body responds with heightened sensitivity, likely enhanced by her own chemical formulations.

"Oh yes," you purr, "you've done this before, haven't you?"

Vira doesn't answer with words, but her technique speaks volumes. Her tongue circles your clit with perfect pressure before dipping lower to taste the wetness gathering at your entrance. You grip the armchair tighter, the mechanical hand leaving small indentations in the expensive upholstery.

"Deeper," you demand, and Vira complies immediately, her tongue pushing inside while her nose brushes against your clit.

You reach down with your flesh hand, gripping her chestnut hair, pulling loose the severe bun until her locks fall around her face. The sight of her like this—the prim secretary now messily devouring her boss—intensifies your pleasure tenfold.

"Look at me," you command.

Vira raises her eyes, meeting your gaze while her mouth continues its skilled worship. The power dynamic is intoxicating—you in Renata's powerful body, ordering this young woman to pleasure you, and her eager compliance in hopes of advancement.

"Use your fingers too," you instruct, and she immediately slides two fingers inside you, curving them upward to hit a spot that makes your borrowed body jerk with pleasure.

The dual sensation of her tongue flicking rapidly against your clit while her fingers work inside you builds a pressure that's quickly becoming overwhelming. Renata's body responds with a ferocity that surprises you—chemical enhancements clearly at work as your pleasure multiplies beyond normal human capacity.

"Yes, right there," you gasp as Vira increases her pace, her free hand now gripping your thigh hard enough to leave marks.

The orgasm crashes through you unexpectedly—Renata's body convulsing as waves of chemically-amplified pleasure radiate outward from your core. You cry out, a sound that would shock anyone who knows the normally controlled Chem-Baroness. Your mechanical hand grips the chair so hard a crack forms in the wood as your flesh hand holds Vira's face firmly against you.

As the aftershocks subside, you release your grip on Vira, who sits back on her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lipstick is smeared, her hair disheveled, but her eyes remain calculatingly observant, gauging your reaction.

"Was that satisfactory, Madame Glasc?" she asks, her voice husky but professional despite what just transpired.