A Proper Greeting At Work

Before she went to work Jasmine had to decide what she was going to be wearing. This was a bit of a pickle since she didn't know what sort of atmosphere she might be walking into. Her normal work clothes varied depending on what she expected to be doing. A boring grey dress in a rather dull shade was what she tended towards when she didn't have to met anyone while a more figure-hugging darker dress with a shorter hem was what she would wear if she wanted to make an impression. She eventually decided on the latter but going bare-legged didn't quite feel right. She decided to slip on a pair of nylon leggings as well.

This set she left the house taking her car towards the part of the city which housed the agency. The closer she got the more nervous she became. She didn't know what would happen when she got there and every moment she was tempted to turn back. She had the crown in her bag at her side but was hoping that she wouldn't have to use it again for the day. It was still better to have it near her than back at the house though. Just in case.

The Investment Agency ran a large building on the outskirts of the business district. It was a steel tower of about three or four floors, ringed with glass windows that looked out onto the street. A pretty building it was not but it was functional. This was where they did most of their work and it included offices, management suites, tech support and meeting rooms of various levels of importance. As she saw it approach in the distance Jasmine realised she was more tense than when she had first started to work here. She had no idea what was going to happen when she stepped inside.

She pulled the car up into the car park. Letting the engine settle for a moment as she gathered herself. Then she stepped outside. The wind hit her, beating against her skirt and hair but the sun was pleasant enough. Around her other people were arriving for work. She was acutely aware that many of them were stopping to stare at her. She swallowed and looked around. No one seemed to want to meet her eye. People she'd worked with for years looked away, avoided her gaze. No one talked to her either. Clutching her bag she moved towards the entrance to the building.

The entrance to the building was guarded by a set of security doors. Each employee had a keycard to open them but when Jasmine tried to use hers they didn't accept it. The machine made a sound of disapproval and the door remained shut. Other people were able to get in easily. They did it too, walking past her without a sign that they even recognised her. Jasmine watched them go, her heart pounded and she wondered what she was going to do if she couldn't even get into the building?

She didn't have to wonder for long. A few minutes later, she heard someone calling her name and turned to see Michael. Michael had been one of her sub-managers, a blond haired man with a wiry body and and a closely shaven head. He had blue eyes and a light tone that belayed the coldness he was capable of. She'd never liked him. He'd always been the sort to do anything to achieve his goals, to advance in the company. Maybe it was hypocritical since she was the same but she always felt that the only thing which held Michael back from real crime was just that he was worried he'd get caught.

He walked towards her, carving a path through the crowd.

"Michael." She said, "The doors won't let me in. Can you do me a favour and let me borrow your card?"

"Of course not." He laughed. The sound made her take a step back. The hair on her neck prickled. "The doors are for employees. You're not one of those anymore Jasmine. You fucked up and you're less than that now. All of that money you lost and you think we'd still treat you like people? Please. You're not allowed to use the front door anymore. You'll have to go in through the side entrance."

"O-okay then." Jasmine said. She moved towards the side entrance but Michael waved her down again.

"You're not properly dressed yet." He said.

"This is what I always wore." Jasmine protested.

"That was before." He said. "A manager is allowed to wear clothes like that. But for a failure they're a bit fine don't you think?"

"You want me to take off my clothes?" Jasmine said in a small voice. "Here? In public?"

Michael rolled his eyes as if it was the most stupid question in the world.

"I thought we covered this before. You don't have a right to privacy until you've paid back the money you lost for the company. But I tell you what if you get on your knees and beg me for it I'll let you keep your underwear for now."

People were gathering around now. Watching the exchange. Jasmine could feel their eyes. Their whispered words brushed against her ears. Some of them sounded sympathetic but none of them stepped forward to help. She bit her lower lip, wondering what was the thing to do. Michael was loving this. She could see the haughty rush in his eyes. For her it was humiliation itself. Locked outside of the doors and made to beg for scraps. At the same time though she felt feel a treacherous part of herself enjoying it. The thought of being stripped naked in front of them all mortified her. She swallowed. Tried to **** her throat to work. The cement felt hard against her knees. Her face burned with shame.

Jasmine knelt on the ground in front of Michael. Her eyes locked on the earth below him. She refused to look up, to meet his eye.

"Please Michael," she said, "Please don't make me strip naked in front of all of these people."

"Hmmm..." Michael seemed to be considering it. Drawing out the moment for as long as he could. "Stroke your chest for me."

"What?"

"You heard me. Touch your breasts. I've always wanted to see you do that. Touch them the way you touch them when you rub yourself off."

Jasmine's face burned with shame. There were tears in the corners of her eyes as her hands rose to her chest. Her skin flared with sensation even through the fabric of her dress and her bra. In public, under the eyes of people she had known for seven years, Jasmine started to squeeze her breasts. She pressed them together through the bra and fabric, squeezing her eyes shut against the stimulation.

"Now beg me again. This time make me believe it."

"Please, Michael." The words were like acid in her throat. Her heart hammered but she couldn't stop herself. Tingles swept up and down her body. She could feel a tiny ball of heat between her legs. Her nipples were hard and not just because her fingers were tracing over them. Why did this feel so intense? Was it because she was finally living out her fantasy?

"Please what Jasmine? Be specific."

"Please don't make me strip naked in front of all of these people I...I couldn't bear it. I know I lost that money but I didn't mean to. Please have mercy on me."

She was begging. Begging for her dignity and she hadn't even gotten into the building. It should have been disgusting. It should have turned her off but it didn't. Somehow it only made her feel all the hotter. It only made her want more. She was almost scared by the intense feeling that was spreading through her. It called for more, more, more.

"I suppose for the sake of all the good work you did before I can allow you that one thing." Michael conceded. "You can keep your underwear for now but the dress has to go."

She nodded. Her legs shook as she got to her feet. The crowd around her had only grown more numerous. Men and women were both gathered and some had taken out their phones. She realised that videos were being made. Pictures were being taken. This moment was being recorded. It would live on on the internet as well as people's memories. It would be uploaded to porn sites. The images would haunt her for as long as her command was not repealed.

Her fingers trembled as they undid the buttons of her dress. The cold air blew around her legs, under her skirt as she clumsily disrobed. Every inch of revealed skin felt more sensitive than the last. Jasmine's body was a good one. She'd always been proud of it and worked to keep it in shape. She was lithe but not small. Her arms and legs were toned but not quite muscular. Her skin was dusky and dark, and the crowd seemed to drink it in as the wrestled with the dress and with her own ****.

At last the brown dress lay on a heap on the ground in front of her. Jasmina was clad only in her bra, her panties and her leggings. She crossed her arms across her chest and looked to Michael.

"Put the arms down." He said. "Let everyone see what they have always imagined."

Her blush grew more intense but she did as she was asked. Well, told. Her arms fell to her sides and now the whole crowd could see her body. Her breasts were about average, neither being big enough to comment on nor small enough to be noteworthy. She was glad for the feeble protection of the bra and the nylon leggings.

At Michael's orders she kicked off her shoes too. Then he gestured for her to follow him towards the side entrance. She did, leaving the pile of clothes behind and clutching her bag and the crown inside of it to her chest like a protective talisman.