On a typical training day at Micro Exotic Inc., Sandra, a vibrant woman in her mid-20s, confidently navigates the buzzing office hallway. With each determined step, her strong presence is felt. Her blond hair, which she has meticulously gathered into a neat, tight bun, adds a touch of elegance to her poised demeanor. It's as if, with her hair pulled back, her sharp focus and determination become even more apparent.

Her eyes, a stunning sky-blue, seem to hold a universe of intelligence and curiosity. As she sweeps her gaze over the office, taking in the flurry of activity, her eyes twinkle, reflecting the vibrant life of the corporation. The energy and pulse of the office seem to be mirrored in her gaze, making her a part of this dynamic ecosystem.

When she smiles or speaks, a hint of pink gloss adorns her lips, adding a pop of color to her otherwise professional appearance. This touch of pink, while subtle, speaks volumes about her personality - vibrant, lively, and unafraid to bring her personal touch to the corporate world.

Her hands, always moving, always contributing, are adorned with meticulously manicured nails. They are a testament to her attention to detail, to her unwillingness to overlook even the smallest aspects of her work. Her nails, like her work ethic, are flawless, reflecting her dedication to maintaining a high standard in all she does.

Sandra's attire is as impressive as her work ethic. She is dressed in a well-tailored suit jacket, perfectly paired with a matching skirt. The ensemble exudes an aura of professional confidence, ensuring she is taken seriously in this corporate world. Her clothes seem to be an extension of her personality - organized, polished, and efficient.

As she walks, the sound of her black leather high-heeled shoes echoes through the hallway. Each step she takes resonates against the polished floor, creating a rhythm that punctuates the hum of office activity. The sound of her shoes, much like Sandra herself, commands attention and respect.

Adding a hint of glamour to her corporate look are the gold-studded earrings she wears. They catch the light with every turn of her head, subtly gleaming with elegance. They are not just accessories, but a part of her identity - a woman who blends professionalism with personal style, who is as comfortable with spreadsheets as she is with fashion.

Following her brisk and purposeful walk, Sandra reaches her destination, stopping abruptly before a pristine white door with a clear glass window. The door, untouched by the usual office chaos, presents a stark contrast to the bustling energy that thrives in the corridors of Micro Exotic Inc. Above the door in precise, bold letters, the words "Training Room 4" are etched, indicating her next checkpoint. This is already her fourth stop for the day, an evident testament to her structured and methodical approach to her daunting work schedule.

These rooms serve a significant purpose within the company, functioning as dedicated spaces for specialized 'shrinkee' trainers. It is Sandra's formidable task to ensure that these particular trainers consistently deliver results that align with the company's high standards. This role is undoubtedly challenging, demanding a certain level of ruthlessness that not everyone is equipped to handle. Yet, Sandra navigates these demands with an enviable ease, not just holding her own, but excelling, thriving even, in this high-pressure environment.

Despite her relatively young age, Sandra has managed to carve out a position for herself as a manager at Micro Exotic Inc. This is no small feat and is a testament to her exceptional work performance. Among her peers, she stands out as the youngest, a fact that only amplifies her aura of unwavering determination and ambition.

Her role within the company necessitates a firm, often ruthlessly so, approach. However, Sandra not only accepts this challenge but also relishes it. The thrill of her job, the satisfaction derived from getting tangible results, fuels her, infusing her with a sense of gratification that is conspicuously evident in her energetic strides and unshakeable confidence.

Her exceptional work ethic, when paired with her results-driven approach, has not gone unnoticed. The board of directors, always on the lookout for promising talent, have taken note. They see in Sandra a future leader, one who holds the potential to guide the company towards greater success. Judging by her current trajectory, it is abundantly clear that Sandra's journey with Micro Exotic Inc. is just beginning, and a promising future awaits her.

Sandra, standing just outside the pristine white door, subtly shifts towards the clear glass window. She leans in ever so slightly, her sky-blue eyes keen and alert. Her intention is to observe without being observed, a tactic she's mastered over the years. She believes it allows her to gain the most accurate understanding of work performance, free from the altered behaviors that come when employees know they are under scrutiny.

Inside the room, she spots a man called Simon. Simon is a tall man, standing at 6 foot, making him just slightly taller than Sandra herself. His face is adorned with thin glasses, resting lightly on the bridge of his nose. His attire is casual, a stark contrast to Sandra's professional ensemble, a flexibility in dress code allowed to those not holding managerial positions.

Simon's face sports a slight stubble, giving him a laid-back appearance. His physical shape suggests an average lifestyle, neither exceptionally athletic nor entirely sedentary. Sandra notes all these details, her eyes not missing a thing. Simon seems to be in the midst of a conversation, but from her vantage point, the other party is unseen, concealed by Simon's imposing height.

Intrigued by the situation, Sandra decides to delve deeper. She takes a silent step forward, leaning in further to the window to get a better view of the room. Her gaze falls on a table below Simon. What she sees is a sight that, while not uncommon in her line of work, never fails to stir a mixture of emotions within her.

On the table, there are ten shrunken people, their heights ranging between a mere 6 and 12 inches. The group is a mix of men and women, each stripped of their clothes, their vulnerability shamefully exposed for all to see. Some of them are devoid of body hair, a side effect of the shrinking process they have undergone. Others, however, show signs of hair, indicating that their bodies are regenerating the lost hair after the procedure.

The shrunken group appears to be involved in a lively discussion among themselves. Simon, their designated trainer, seems to be lecturing them, his mouth moving in a steady rhythm. However, his words are inaudible, swallowed completely by the soundproofing installed in these specialized rooms. The purpose of the soundproofing is to create a buffer of silence, preventing passing employees from getting drawn into uncomfortable situations.

Observing the scenario, Sandra feels a sense of disappointment. Simon's approach to training is not up to her high standards. She shakes her head subtly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she makes a mental note of his performance. Despite the disappointment, she recognizes that her observation session has served its purpose. It has provided her with invaluable insights into the areas that require immediate rectification. And with that knowledge, she is ready to take her next steps.

With a swift and deliberate movement, Sandra reaches out, her manicured hand wrapping securely around the cool, metallic handle of the door. Without a hint of hesitation, she pushes the door open to reveal the room beyond. The door makes a soft hissing noise as it slides open, a stark contrast to the absolute silence that follows her sudden entrance.

Simon, who is caught completely off guard by her unexpected appearance, instinctively steps back. An expression of surprise flashes momentarily across his face, the usually confident trainer momentarily unsettled. He makes an attempt to mask his discomfort, but it's evident in the way his eyes widen and his posture stiffens. As he recognizes the woman standing before him, understanding quickly dawns on him. It's Sandra, the imposing manager, renowned for her high standards and no-nonsense demeanor.

Without missing a beat, Sandra offers Simon a smile. Her lips curve into what appears to be an innocent expression. However, those familiar with Sandra's ways understand that this seemingly gentle smile often precedes her more ruthless side.

The shrunken people, their attention drawn by the disruption, turn to look across the room at Sandra. Their eyes, wide with curiosity and fear, dart between each other, silently asking questions. Most of them are new, unfamiliar with this powerful woman who commands such attention within the company. They glance at each other for answers, their confusion evident in their wide-eyed expressions and hushed whispers.

However, among the group, the shrunken people with more hair growth, those who have been at Micro Exotic Inc for longer, seem to recoil in dread. They know this woman all too well. They've seen her before. Each of them remembers every detail of her previous visits, every instance of her ruthless determination and actions to get the results she wants. The memory of her unyielding approach is enough to stir a palpable fear in their hearts, causing them to shrink back further, as if hoping to become invisible in the shadow of her formidable presence.

The atmosphere in the room shifts dramatically, an undercurrent of tension threading through the silence as Sandra's gaze sweeps over the room. With a single, uninvited entrance, Sandra has managed to assert her authority, her presence alone serving as a reminder of the high standards she enforces and the lengths she'll go to achieve them.

Stepping gracefully into the room, the clack of Sandra's high-heels echoed authoritatively throughout the space, momentarily silencing the soft murmur of conversation. She paused, allowing her gaze to sweep the room before it landed on Simon. Offering him a cordial yet authoritative greeting, she said, "Good day, Simon." A flicker of amusement danced in her sky-blue eyes as she watched Simon react to her unexpected presence.

Caught off guard, Simon hastily attempted to compose himself. With a quick, flustered motion, he brushed off imaginary dust from his casual attire, a stark contrast to the impeccable professionalism that Sandra radiated. His nervous actions were an instinctive attempt to make himself more presentable in the face of her formidable presence.

"Good day, Sandra," Simon responded, his voice slightly shaky. His tall, usually relaxed posture straightened, and he nodded quickly in acknowledgment, visibly trying to regain some semblance of control over his surprise.

Despite her stern exterior, Sandra couldn't help but roll her eyes at Simon's overt display of nervousness. However, she managed to keep her smile in place, a testament to her impeccable control over her expressions.

"Settle down, Simon," she told him lightly, acknowledging his nervousness but also subtly reminding him of his position. She paused for a moment, allowing him a moment to regain his composure.

Then, with a shift in her gaze that indicated she was moving onto more serious matters, she posed her question. "So, Simon," she began, her sky-blue eyes meeting his, her tone becoming more serious. "You've been in your new role as a trainer here at Micro Exotic Inc. for a while now. Tell me, how are you finding it?". Her question, while seemingly straightforward, held an underlying expectation for a comprehensive and honest response.

Simon took a deep breath, bracing himself before responding. "Sandra," he began, his gaze instinctively dropping to the table filled with the shrunken people before lifting to meet her piercing blue eyes. "I would be lying if I said it's a walk in the park. It's been challenging, indeed." He paused momentarily, rallying his thoughts. "But, it's not without its rewards. The company provides me benefits that make the hardships worth it, and I am confident that I'll grow into this role fully before my probation period is over."

Sandra's gaze didn't waver, her unyielding blue eyes seemingly examining Simon's every word. She latched onto a particular part of his statement. "Difficult?" she echoed, her tone neutral but the sharpness in her eyes telling a different story. "Why do you find the role difficult, Simon?" Her gaze drifted down to the table, lingering on the group of shrunken individuals huddled together. The sight of the hairier ones recoiling from her gaze brought a smile to her face, a spark of amusement dancing in her eyes.

She lifted her gaze back to Simon, her smile still intact, waiting for his explanation. Simon swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. "It's the newer 'shrinkees', Sandra," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Training them is a bit more difficult than I initially anticipated. I fear that we might have to sell them for a lower price than those with prior training." His gaze flickered back to the table, a shadow of concern crossing his features.

"I need more time," he continued, his gaze returning to Sandra. "They need time to fully adapt to their new lives. It's not an easy transition, and I want to ensure we're giving them the adequate support they need during this trying period."

Sandra's gaze softened slightly, but the smile remained etched on her face. She nodded, acknowledging his concerns. "I see," she said, her tone contemplative. "It's indeed an interesting challenge, balancing the needs of the 'shrinkees' with the business's demands." Her gaze moved back to the table one last time, observing the huddled group, before returning to Simon. "It's a delicate balance, Simon. I must say, I am intrigued to see how you'll navigate this predicament."

She paused, her gaze momentarily thoughtful before she continued. "Remember Simon, you are not alone in this endeavour," she said, her tone reassuring yet firm. "Micro Exotic Inc. believes in teamwork, and we are here to support you. However, it's crucial that your training outputs align with the company's high standards. I trust you understand the implications."

Simon nodded, reassured by her words yet aware of the immense responsibility on his shoulders. "Yes, Sandra. I appreciate your advice and the company's support. I'll do my best to meet the expectations."

The silence lingered as Sandra continued to study the table of diminutive figures. Her gaze moved from one to another, her sky-blue eyes taking in each detail. Then, she broke the silence with a question directed at Simon. "Which one of them is giving you the most difficulty, Simon? Why are you struggling to gain obedience from them?"

Simon exhaled, a tired sigh that echoed his defeat. His hand moved across the table, his index finger finally stopping at a figure positioned furthest on the left and closest to Sandra. "Him... Damian," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He pointed to the tallest shrinkee, who stood there, looking up at the two of them.

Damian was indeed a sight to behold. Standing at an impressive 12 inches, he towered over the other shrinkees. His skin was a patchwork of scars, each marking the place where a tattoo once proudly stood. The shrinking procedure, unable to accommodate non-organic matter, had effectively removed his tattoos, leaving behind only the scars as a painful reminder. His body was devoid of hair, a clear sign that he was a recent addition to the group.

Sandra moved closer to the table, her high-heeled shoes clicking authoritatively against the polished floor. She leaned over, her figure casting a formidable shadow over Damian. As she loomed over him, Damian held her gaze, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. Without breaking eye contact with Damian, Sandra turned her attention back to Simon. "What was Damian's crime?" she asked, her voice as cold as the gleaming office floors.

Simon hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting nervously between Sandra and Damian. Finally, he broke the silence. "Sexual assault, Sandra." The words hung in the air, adding a chilling tone to the tense atmosphere. The revelation seemed to darken the room, casting a somber mood around them. The room went quiet again, the only sound being the soft hum of the office activity outside.

Sandra maintained her gaze on Damian, her expression unreadable. The news of his crime seemed to have had no visible impact on her. But under the calm facade, her mind was already at work, crafting a plan to deal with this new piece of information.

"And why should it matter to you, lady?" Damian sneered, his voice carrying a level of arrogance that seemed unfitting for his shrunken size. "I did what I did, and I ain't sorry for it. Bitch had it coming. It's not like I can make things any worse for myself. I'm already a shrinkee now, and I don't want to be here," he added, his voice filled with bitterness. His challenging gaze stayed locked onto Sandra's, a smirk playing on his lips. "It's not like you're any better. You're just a corporate puppet playing with lives for her paycheck."

The room went quiet, the audacity of his words hanging heavily in the air. The shrinkees, who had watched him mock and berate Simon for hours, looked shocked. Some visibly flinched away from him, as if his insolence was a contagious disease they didn't want to catch.

Despite his bravado, there was a hint of resignation in Damian's voice. He was convinced he'd either end up dead or at worse end up sold for some advertised blood sport, something he once enjoyed watching before he was arrested. His earlier enjoyment seemed to have evaporated, leaving behind just the bitter reality of his current situation.

Sandra, however, remained unmoved. Her expression didn't change, and she didn't flinch. Instead, she looked down at Damian, her sky-blue eyes cold and calculating. "Interesting," she replied calmly, a hint of amusement in her voice. "You're correct, Damian. You're already at rock bottom. You can't make things any worse for yourself. But remember, there's a difference between dying a quick death and living a prolonged one full of suffering."

Her words sent a chill through the room, her threat clear. The other shrinkees went silent, visibly shrinking back from her. Their gazes, once full of curiosity, were now filled with fear, their bodies trembling.

Damian, however, just laughed. "Bring it on, lady. I've seen it all," he retorted. But his confident smirk didn't reach his eyes, which held a flicker of fear. It was clear that Sandra's words had an impact on him, stripping him of his earlier bravado.

Sandra straightened, her gaze still on Damian. She took a moment, her eyes scanning the room, taking in the fearful expressions of the other shrinkees.

"Simon," Sandra began, her voice steady and firm, cutting through the quiet hum of the office activity outside the room. "you need to understand the importance of establishing your position. They need to know their place." Her gaze was unwavering, fixed on Simon as she imparted her wisdom. "You just have to be a bit...creative."

As she said these words, her attention shifted towards the table before them. Her hand moved towards the collection of shrunken individuals, specifically singling out Damian. Damian's eyes widened in fear as Sandra's hand approached him. The details of her hand, so astonishingly clear due to their size difference, were terrifyingly intimidating. His eyes squeezed shut in a reflexive response, his body tensing as he braced himself for what was to come.

With a swift and deliberate movement, Sandra flicked Damian on the chin with her middle finger. To him, it felt like a punch from a heavyweight boxer. The force of the flick was enough to throw him off balance. Damian, caught off guard, stumbled and fell flat on his back, his mind dazed by the sudden impact.

"See, Simon?" Sandra continued, her voice maintaining its professional tone despite the sadism evident in her expression. "It's all about asserting authority." As she voiced these words, the room seemed to echo with the unspoken power they held.

As if to further emphasize her point, Sandra reached out for Damian again. This time, she was more deliberate, her actions leaving no room for misinterpretation. She pinched his penis painfully between the knuckle of her thumb and index finger. Slowly, almost as if she was savoring the moment, she lifted him from the table, dangling him before the other shrinkees.

Damian let out a scream, low in volume to Sandra and Simon due to the size difference but horrifyingly loud to the other shrinkees. The pain was immense, and the fear in his eyes was palpable. His body convulsed in a futile attempt to free himself from Sandra's merciless grip.

"And remember," Sandra added, her tone shifting from instructive to cautionary. "Each shrinkee should be treated appropriately depending on their actions." As she spoke these words, her gaze once again swept over the room, taking stock of the reactions her actions had incited.

Simon watched the scene unfold, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach. He was acutely aware of the horror he felt, his mind grappling with the reality of Sandra's methods. They were effective, there was no denying that, but they were also undeniably cruel. The stark contrast between Sandra's ruthless actions and her professional demeanor was unsettling. He realized then that he had much to learn if he was to meet Sandra's high standards, and the journey was bound to be mentally and morally challenging.

Torment was an understatement to describe what Damian was currently experiencing. His body was under an onslaught of pain, the likes of which he had never encountered. It was almost indescribable, a searing, relentless agony that seemed to consume him entirely. His skin, usually a rich tan, paled drastically due to the shock, taking on a sickly pallor. He was convinced that his lower appendage would be ripped off at any moment as Sandra dangled him what felt like 20 feet above the ground. It was difficult to gauge the exact height as the pain and impact to his chin blurred his vision, the world around him wavering and indistinct.

Despite the enhanced durability invested in the batch of shrinkees he came from, his lower appendage felt like it was on fire. The pain radiated outwards in waves that seemed to threaten to overwhelm him. The intensity of the pain was so much that he felt as if he was being torn apart from the inside, every nerve ending screaming out in protest.

Sandra swung Damian back and forth, her grip unyielding and merciless. She continued speaking to Simon, her words echoing ominously in Damian's ears. "If a shrinkee acts like a little prick, then he should be treated like one," she said, her voice cold and dismissive. The chilling indifference in her voice was as terrifying as the physical pain itself.

Suddenly, she let go, and Damian plummeted towards the table. He felt as if he was in free fall, the ground rushing up to meet him. His body crashed into the hard surface with a thud. The impact was heavy, his small form bouncing slightly from the force of the fall. However, miraculously, nothing broke. His body, despite its reduced size, was stronger than it looked. The enhanced durability granted to his batch of shrinkees ensured that he would survive such falls with nothing more than severe bruising.

Still, the pain was very real, a throbbing ache that seemed to echo through his entire body. It made Damian curl into a ball, his hands instinctively reaching down to cradle his injured nether region. Tears streamed down his face as he whimpered. The words 'fuck you' escaped his lips over and over again in between his cries, a futile attempt to express the depth of his agony.

Ignoring his suffering, Sandra leaned down to the table just above Damian. Her imposing figure cast a long, chilling shadow over him. "Fuck you... Mistress," she whispered, her breath washing over Damian. The scent was a mix of mint and something colder, something harsher, a reflection of her ruthlessness.

Without warning, she reached for him again, her fingers finding his exposed testicles. With a swift, cruel movement, she flicked him with her middle finger's nail. The sharp sting was a fresh wave of torment, making Damian cry out in pain. His body convulsed in response, his muscles spasming from the shock. His world was once again consumed by pain, a stark reminder of his position, of his new reality.

Simon, though deeply disturbed and horrified at Sandra's brutal display of authority, did his utmost to maintain his composure. His heart pounded in his chest, his throat tight with the effort of swallowing his shock. "I understand, Sandra," he managed to say, his voice steady. "I will strive to meet your expectations, to assert my authority in a manner that's fitting." His eyes were wide, a silent testament to the turmoil he felt inside. A conflict was brewing within him, a battle between his innate sense of empathy and his newly assigned role.

Sandra, seemingly unimpressed by his declaration, dismissed his words with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "We're not done here, Simon," she said, her voice carrying an edge that hinted at her impatience. She gestured towards the table, her gaze sweeping over the group of shrunken individuals. "Which of the shrinkees did you find the easiest to train?" she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes held a deeper expectation.

Simon's gaze fell on a petite figure huddled amongst the group. Standing at a mere 7 inches, she was significantly smaller than Damian. Her name was Jade, a brunette with soft waves of hair that had been growing for six months following her shrinking procedure. Her brown eyes, wide and fearful, were riveted on Sandra.

"Jade," he said, pointing towards her. His voice held a touch of respect, a testament to her resilience and adaptability. "She was convicted of mass benefit fraud." He paused for a moment, allowing Sandra's gaze to shift to Jade. "She's been exemplary in her training. She shows high levels of obedience and has been quick to adapt to new challenges."

Simon's gaze shifted back to Sandra, his eyes meeting hers. "She's also been taking advanced language classes. Jade's become quite proficient as a translator between Spanish and English. I believe she could serve a higher class of clients, which would mean a higher price tag for her."

Throughout this exchange, Jade absorbed every word, her attention focused on the conversation. Despite the fear coursing through her, she maintained her composure, her eyes darting between Sandra and Simon as they discussed her fate.

Sandra nodded, her gaze still fixed on Jade. "I'm familiar with Jade," she said, her voice carrying a note of approval. "I trained her before my promotion to manager." Her gaze shifted to Simon, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "She was always a quick learner."

Sandra extended her right hand, her index finger reaching out towards Jade. The details of her manicured hand and finger were astonishingly clear to Jade due to the significant size difference. Sandra ran the tip of her finger along Jade's cheek, petting her lightly.

"I'm proud of your growth, Jade," Sandra said softly, her voice surprisingly tender. "I have high expectations for you."

Jade responded respectfully, her voice just above a whisper. "Thank you, Sandra. Your approval is all I want."

Sandra let out a cackle, shaking her head in amusement. "Just my approval? Come now, Jade, you can do better than that. Aspire for more." She glanced at Simon, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Pick a reward. It could be anything - tasty food, movie time, even a companion to keep you company in your cell. The choice is yours."

Jade paused, her brows furrowing as she pondered Sandra's offer. She didn't want to take too much time, conscious of the intimidating presence standing over her. "Chocolate," she blurted out, her eyes brightening at the thought. "I want chocolate."

Sandra pulled back from Jade, a laugh echoing from her lips. She snapped her fingers at Simon, her voice sharp and commanding. "Simon, get Jade some chocolate," she ordered, laughter dancing in her words.

Simon nodded, a hint of relief in his eyes as he responded, "Yes, Sandra. I'll see to it."

Sandra's gaze shifted towards Damian's unconscious form, laying in a heap on the table. "As for Damian," she said, her voice devoid of any warmth. "Deal with him. If he gives you any more trouble, have him listed in the gay category on the online store. And leave his straight preference in his listing."

Simon's mouth parted in shock, but no words came out. He was horrified by Sandra's suggestion, his mind struggling to comprehend her ruthless plans.

Unfazed by his reaction, Sandra continued, her gaze narrowed in sudden anger at Simon's poor handling of the shrinkees. "Remember, Simon, these shrinkees are no longer humans. They forfeited that privilege when they chose to commit their crimes. They will repay society, willingly or kicking and screaming, it makes no difference to the end result. There are plenty of gay men who enjoy trying to make a straight man gay and plenty more who simply do not care and enjoy the struggle."

Simon nodded quickly, his voice barely more than a whisper as he responded, "Yes, Sandra. It will be done."

Sandra snapped a response, her tone sharp and authoritative. "Make it so, Simon. And if he is as useless as he has displayed today, then find a use is his uselessness" With that, she turned on her heel, a sick and twisted grin revealing her white teeth. Every inch of her radiated excitement, her love for her job evident in the extra skip in her step as she exited the room.

Sandra left training room 4, her steps echoing ominously in the otherwise silent room. Her exit left a chilling atmosphere in her wake, a stark reminder of her ruthless methods and unforgiving standards. She made her way to training room 5, her excitement growing with each step. Despite the horror she left behind, Sandra was eager to continue her day, her job bringing her a twisted sense of satisfaction.