“Chloe, we need you in the boardroom in five. Freshen up and look your best please.”
J, over the intercom. Chloe’s heart pounds. All three of them - is this it - are they going to fire her? She feels her probationary week has been all over the place - the giggles, the forgetting things, the twisted stocking seams, her instinctive reactions against groping not always restrained.
Her heart hammers as she renews her lipstick, mascara, powder, checks her little outfit, lastly pinching her nipples to stiffen them, so they show clearly through the gauzy blouse.
They are seated in front of the board table, an a loose arc, relaxed. There is no chair for her. She stands, nervously in front of them, hands at her sides, uneasy. From nowhere, she finds herself dropping a little curtsey, lifting the tiny skirt yet higher, then giggling and flushing, having flashed her shaven pussy. This is the whole thing - she is so unsure of herself, while they are so cool, grinning at her calmly, while she tries to keep her knees from quivering visibly.
“Well, pretty…”
The pause is excruciating; her smile slips.
“We’re pleased, overall - although there are a few issues.”
Another pause; she can’t help herself;
“Oh, thank you, thank you all. I … I know I’ve got to do better - and I will - if you’ll only give me …
“Quiet!”
“Yes, Sir, sorry Sir”
“We’re going to extend the probationary period for three months.”
Her heart thumps. The mix of pathetically deep gratitude, sexual excitement, and shivering fear that she now gets so often, is stronger than ever. ‘Why am I such a wreck?’ she thinks, knowing that her weakness is their strength, and that they will use their strength to take her deeper into their grip - a grip that she fears and wants, all at the same time; a grip that is both safety and destruction.
She finds herself sinking to her knees.
“Oh .. oh sirs, thank you! thank you. ” There are tears in her eyes, tears of relief, but also of fear - because now, she knows, they will want more - even more. And she will let it happen. She has no will to resist.
“As you know, the arrangement at present is that you simply do whatever is asked of you. We are in complete control. However, we have told you that we have placed limits on ourselves as to how far we will push you. So far, as I said, we are generally satisfied with your performance in this respect. You will get a raise, and an increased clothing allowance. But you need to know, that if you wish to stay, that we will take significant further liberties with you - immediately, this morning; right here. The limits we have imposed on ourselves will be loosened considerably.
Assuming you wish to stay, the probationary period will work like this. Two weeks before the end of the three months, if we want you to stay, we’ll give you an envelope. In the envelope will be the address of a tattoo parlour. If you want to stay, you will go there, and the company logo will be inked, in outline, on your left breast, and at the small of your back.
If you do this, then you will receive a raise and other benefits. Other details will be communicated to you at the time. But again, we will further increase the range of freedoms we take with you - as at present, we won’t tell you what you will be expected to accept, but you will be expected to prettily and entertainingly comply with all requests, or be dismissed.
As time goes by, you will have the option of returning to the tattoo parlour, and having further sections of the logo inked in solid. Each additional section will afford you a pay rise, and simultaneously encourage us to take further liberties with your body, your dignity and your freedom - you will never know in which ways before making your decision - that will be our decision.
Have I made myself clear? you understand how it will work?”
She is trembling. She nods;
“Yes, yes .. I, I think so, anyway”, she giggles again;
“If .. if I say, yes. Then you’ll take .. liberties .. with me - now - immediately?” She smiles a nervous smile, blushing, feeling her sex moisten, as it has been more and more easily.
“That’s correct.”
“Will .. will it hurt?”
“No questions, no answers, pretty. Either leave now or put this on.”
He is holding a black choker with, instead of a cameo, a key fob with the company logo. She will be marked as a company creature, then. She closes her eyes. Her heart is thumping. A few hot tears find their way from the corners of her eyes. She bites her lip. It is all very entertaining for the three men watching.
It is agony for Chloe. She can’t - can’t! let them carry on doing this to her - who knows where it will end? If she’s not careful she’ll end up a tattooed company whore. Why isn’t this thought enough to get her up and running out of the door! Why can’t she leave? What .. what ‘liberties’ will they take with her next? And why is her pussy wet at the thought of this? God, why did she ever start here?
She feels so weak, so vulnerable, kneeling in front of them in her skimpy little outfit. And she is enjoying the vulnerability - knowing that they are enjoying it - god, she is getting lost in this!
She looks up, blushing, trembling, to find that two of them aren’t even looking at her, and the other has a relaxed grin on his face - they don’t even care! They probably have a list of other girls who would do everything she has done to please them (and in fact they do have such a list - they really DON’T care, much. This totty is a pretty one - she may go further, or she may not - it’s all fun to them).
She smiles, weakly, stands, and walks on the high heels over to the table, bands and picks up the choker. She can’t see how it joins, at first, but then it becomes clear - it is a one-way fixing - one end pushes into the other, where it will click home - there is no release. She smiles again, sadly, shakes back her hair (her breasts jiggle beautifully), and puts the choker on, then steps back and stands as they have taught her, legs apart, hands at the small of her back.
“Okay, pretty. So far, when one of us has fucked you or spanked you, it’s always been in private - one-on-one. Well, no more - from now on we will use you when and where we like - with anyone at all present. Oh, also, we will be using your asshole very frequently from now on - you are to attend the beauty salon in the building twice daily for enemas - before you start work and then again at lunchtime. If necessary, you will also attend in the evening before an assignment. You should learn to apply an enema yourself in case of need. Do you understand?”
She is trembling. She is at once terrified and exhilarated. To be fucked while others watch! Her knees are weak, she nearly falls. But she remembers what is expected of her and again lifts her skirt in a pretty curtsy;
“Yes, Sir, Thank you sir” her voice is a whisper, but clear.
D1 speaks; “Gentlemen, I have to leave in about ten minutes, so I’ll go first if you don’t mind? Thanks. Over here, pussy - lean over the back of the chair, and take the arms in your hands. Excellent!”
She knows the pose, of course. Her heart thuds, but there is something, something about all three of them watching, that makes her try extra hard to look sexy, elegant, and something extra too in the thrill she feels as he lifts her skirt up and tucks it into the little waspie garter belt.
“No knickers again? I suppose you chose badly again - another set of lingerie binned.” (of course, that had been first thing this morning - D2 had decided her knickers were not pretty enough, and she had had to take them off, along with her bra - it happened every three or four days now) “Well, I’m going to add to your punishment by spanking you. Count, please!”
It was terrible, being spanked in front of an audience - she hadn’t thought anything could be more humiliating than spanking itself, but the presence of others, their joking commentary on the way her breasts swing, how pink her ass gets, is deeply shaming. As is having to count the smacks, and offer a ‘thank you sir’ after each one - D1 doesn’t need to ask her - she knows what he wants - he has trained her well. And when he swats her harder, and she cannot stop herself from crying out, tears begin to flow again.
It gets worse when he stops, when his hand comes to her sex, spread by the wide spacing of her feet and the bend over the high chair back. She cannot keep silent as his fingers gently investigate her slot; moans softly, weakly, eliciting laughter from all three of them. But his touch is glorious, and when he lightly taps her thigh, she is immediately obedient, and lifts her right knee up onto the chair arm, opening herself obscenely wide, knowing what is to come, yet nevertheless being shocked , as always by the impact of the sensation of being penetrated like this - how glorious, how destructive!, how helplessly she responds as he strokes deeply into her, and she is softly babbling;
“Yes, oh! oh god! oh! a.a.a.a.ah! Oh god; fuck me fuck me fuck me!”
She keeps forgetting, then remembering again, that there are watchers, and is continually ambushed by waves of humiliation.
Of course, all three of them spank her, and A comes in her mouth before D2, declaring himself too impatient to wait for the enema, takes her in the asshole, while she kneels over a low table. It hurts, but she is so far gone by then that she remains soft and open to him throughout, and thanks him humbly after he has spurted into her. A assures her that he will use her there in the afternoon, once she has been cleaned out. She is to come to him at three, and ask for another spanking. She curtsies to the two of them (D1 has gone), blushing, and suddenly curtsies again;
“I’m .. I’m .. Thank you! Thank you sirs. I .. I’ll always try to please you .. but .. but .. I .. if .. if I let you down, anytime .. please just .. just don’t let me!”
She knows this is an incoherent mess, wants to try again, but A has understood, it seems;
“What you are asking, pretty, is that we should force you to be just what we want. Even if you resist?”
She is stunned - she realises that this is what she meant, but to hear it so clearly, crudely stated! Yes.. Yes it is true - she cannot risk displeasing them - the must force her to be what they want!
“Yes .. yes; oh thank you sir for understanding! yes. yes if .., if ever you need to - just make me - f.force me”
D2 puts his hand to her pussy (she opens her legs for him, still sticky with D1’s come) and laughs; “The thing is pussy, we don’t know what you won’t do. You are such an easy slut!”
She blushes and closes her eyes, and wonders why she takes this as a compliment.
“But don’t you worry, I’ve a neat little pair of pliers in my desk that I’ll twist your clit with if you ever show me even the slightest resistance. Understood?”
And he twists her clit between his fingers, harshly. She makes herself stand still and accept the pain - both of his deed and his words;
“Yes .. Sir, Thank you, Sir”
“Now skit - we have work to do!”
Walking back to the outer office, she remembers the choker, with its logo dangling at the front - the others will know what this means, she is sure - another sign of her status as office whore, as if her skimpy skirts, low cut, gauzy blouses, lack of underwear, extravagantly high heels and obvious make-up weren’t enough. As if the time she spends in their offices, doors locked, wasn’t enough.
But there is no help for it - she must go back to her desk, her tiny, glass desk, behind which is the little perch they have given her for a chair. The desk on which there is no computer - proclaiming her uselessness to everyone. There is a phone, but it doesn’t dial out, and the only calls she ever gets are from the partners or on their behalf.
On her desk are; lingerie catalogues (the partners have signed her up for all the ones they can find, and she sometimes gets two new ones a day, she is expected to go through them, marking the ones she thinks they will like. Other staff members occasionally leave post-it notes on pages they have selected.), her make-up kit and mirror (she is expected to spend time on this - she has to offer herself for a spanking if any defect is found at all), a three-ring binder, with articles she has been instructed to search for and print out at home (articles like - how to act sexy for your man’, how to look sexy in high heels’, ‘how to make your body language say ‘fuck me’). And that’s it. Mainly, she sits and waits. She is forbidden to bring other reading matter in, and is expected to be smiling at all times.
So, she smiles at the guys who, coming to deliver a file to the managing secretary (a formidable older woman, who dresses strictly in black), stop and ask her dumb questions, while looking at her tits. She blushes when they pick up her binder and read sections out loud to her. But she never once wishes she were somewhere else.
