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A Submissive Office Fantasy


Bandana’s Master has given her a task.¬†She wasn’t going to do it. She got dressed, a black V-neck tee shirt and black pants. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee, taking that all important first sip of the day.

“I really can’t do it, ” she thought. “It would be too embarrassing.”

She put down her cup and headed back to the bedroom. She looked through her closets selecting five skirts which she lined up on the bed from shortest to longest.

The first was a miniskirt, black and tiny, appropriate for a night out on the town with a really pretty pair of panties underneath, panties intended to be seen. The second was a plaid pleated skirt, more of a schoolgirl costume than a work skirt. It reached about a third of the way down her thighs. The third was another dressy skirt, black again, coming down slightly longer than the schoolgirl skirt. The fourth was a burgundy skirt, a little short for work, but she could probably get away with it. The fifth was black again, and reached a couple of inches above her knees.

“The shortest that you can get away with,” he had demanded. She pulled down her pants and slipped on the fourth skirt. Then taking a deep breath, she reached under her skirt and pulled down her panties. She headed back to the kitchen and picked up her coffee.

“This is crazy. This is crazy. This is crazy,” she muttered as she finished her required daily allowance of caffeine.

She picked up her bag, thinking about the day ahead as she locked the door. She was five steps from the front door when she turned around and walked back. Her hands trembled slightly as she unlocked the door, then she closed it and leaned against the back of the door, her eyes closed.

She took a few shallow breaths, then dropped her bag and quickly shoved her hand under her skirt. Her finger pistoned into her sopping cunt only five times before she came in a shattering explosion of intensity.

Her knees buckled slightly, and she pushed her back into the door to support herself. After a moment, she straightened up and staggered weakly to the sink. She turned the water on and reached for the soap. She looked at the hand reaching for the soap, sticky and wet with her fluids. She shut off the water and pulled a paper towel off the roll, gently blotting her fingers, then reaching under her skirt with it, she wiped off the excess drippings.

She started back to the front door, then paused, looking towards her bedroom. In an orgasm induced haze, she staggered back into the bedroom pulling her skirt off, slipping on the second skirt, the short plaid pleated one. As she quickly turned to leave, eager to get out before she changed her mind – though she wasn’t sure if she was worried that she’d put back on the fourth one or switch to the first one – she felt the air rush across her shaved pussy as the skirt floated up, higher than was decent.

She made her way to the front door, bending to pick up her bag, reminded once again that bending was something she should try and avoid as much as possible today. When she seated herself in her car, she felt the seat on the bottom of her ass; that was as far down as the skirt reached.

When she got out of her car at work, thinking how insane she really was to listen to him like this, she looked around and saw that nobody was there, so she took the opportunity to wipe up the moisture that was already dripping down her thighs.

As she walked in, Meena Ghosh said, “Good morning. Nice skirt!”

“Thanks,” she muttered, her face nearly the same red as her hair.

She went to her first client of the day, and she had trouble making the normal small-talk. Her nipples were tight and stiff, and she was sure that the client just knew that she didn’t have anything on under the skirt. Even if she didn’t, she had to be able to smell her!

“Oh my god!” she thought. It might gave been nice smelling her own fingers on the way to work, but she realized that her hand was close to her clients face, close enough that the smell had to be evident!

Somehow she made it through her first client, then she stumbled to the bathroom and washed her hands. She looked at her face in the mirror. How could anyone not be able to tell just by looking at her that she was being such a slut today? Why did she listen to him?

She glanced at the locked door, sat on the bowl and as quickly and as quietly as she could, she got herself off again. She rewashed her hands, sprayed the air freshener and went out to meet her next client. The orgasm, though quick and not as fulfilling as she needed, actually helped her make it through the next four clients. The next orgasm, achieved the same way, helped her get through the end of the day.

As she walked to the door, she thought, “I did it! He’s going to be so proud! And nobody knew!”

“Good night, Meena,” she said.

Meena beckoned her over.

“What’s up?” she asked.

Meena gave her a funny look and whispered, “Listen, tomorrow it would probably be better if you either wore a longer skirt or at least put on some panties.”

“OK,” she muttered, her face burning redder than it ever had before. She turned and practically ran to her car.

She drove home quickly, her hands shaking, grasping the steering wheel tightly.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” she kept murmuring. “Meena knew!”

As soon as she got home she ran to her door, managed to get the door unlocked after three attempts, then stepped into the safety of her home. She stood against the door, panting just as she did that morning. She reached down and yanked her skirt off, throwing it across the room in embarrassment.

She looked at it on the floor, thinking about her day, thinking about all the times that people might have been able to see that her pussy was completely available. Thinking that people knew that she was masturbating in the bathroom. Thinking that people could smell her all day long. Thinking that people could see the lines of moisture dripping down her thighs. Thinking that Meena saw her!

She rushed to her bedroom, grabbed her biggest dildo and threw herself onto her bed, shoving it deeply into herself in one hard thrust. After three of the best screaming orgasms that she had ever had, she dropped exhausted to the bed, thinking, “He is going to be proud of me!”

 

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