Being controlled at work

The woman’s laugh was low, pleased, as Emma stood trembling almost naked. “You really will do anything you’re told,” she said, eyes glinting. “That’s good. That’s very good.”

She let Emma squirm a moment longer before finally nodding toward the pile of clothes at her feet. “Get dressed. But not completely.”

Emma obeyed quickly, slipping back into her skirt, the woman’s hand shot out, stopping her.

“No underwear,” she said firmly. “Nothing beneath the fabric.”

Emma’s throat tightened, but she nodded, removing her bra and panties as quickly as she could then sliding the skirt up over her bare hips. She pulled on her blouse again, only to be halted once more.

“Unbutton it. Lower.”

Emma’s fingers worked slowly down, each button looser than the last until the blouse barely contained her. One more careless movement and her breasts would spill free.

“Perfect.” The woman reached into her blazer pocket and produced a sleek business card, the name on the front read Angela Reid (Partner), she scribbling a mobile number on the back before slipping it into Emma’s hand. “I already have your number, you’ll answer when I call.”

The realisation hit her the woman was her one of the senior members of her company, she was too low down the pecking order to have seen her before.

Then Angela left as suddenly as she had arrived, heels clicking away across the polished floor.

Emma sat frozen at her desk, her chest nearly spilling from her blouse. It didn’t take long before she noticed the glances, colleagues’ eyes darting toward her cleavage, lingering, then quickly looking away. Heat rose in her face. Later, when she bent to retrieve a dropped pen, the blouse gaped and her soft white breast fell free, pink nipples hard as stone, she knew the young intern across the row had caught an unmistakable glimpse.

Her phone buzzed. A single message. “Good girl.”

Emma looked up and saw a internal CCTV camera watching her every movement.

That afternoon, Emma was scheduled for a Teams call with a handful of colleagues and one of the senior partners. She booked a small side-booth in the office for privacy, pulling the glass door shut behind her. Her blouse was still gaping; every time she looked at the reflection in her laptop screen, her chest seemed indecently close to being revealed.

She had barely logged in when her phone vibrated again.

“Booth door closed? Good. Now, touch yourself. Quietly.”

Emma’s breath hitched. She stared at the message, pulse hammering, then flicked her eyes back to the Teams grid. Boxes of colleagues’ faces filled the screen, the senior partner speaking, someone else nodding along, another typing furiously. No one was looking at her.

Her hands trembled as she slipped one beneath the desk, sliding her skirt up her thighs and touching her wet slit. The thrill of it, the sheer audacity, sent her reeling.

“Don’t stop. I want to see you hold yourself together.” another text buzzed.

Emma **** her face into calm attentiveness, nodding faintly as if considering the discussion, while her other hand worked urgently below the desk, her fingers pushing deep into herself, there was an wet noise coming from her and Emma had to check her mike was off, she looked back at her refection on screen and could see her right shoulder rising and falling, her nipples were screaming to released from her blouse and she let out a little whimper.

Her chest rose and fell too fast, she caught herself biting her lip and quickly **** her mouth into a neutral expression.

The pressure built impossibly quickly. Every muscle in her body tensed with the effort of staying silent.

“Emma?” A colleague’s voice pulled her back, someone had asked her opinion. She swallowed hard, and turned on her mike her voice breaking slightly as she answered. “Y-yes, I agree with that approach.”

Her phone buzzed again. “Don’t you dare stop. You’re going to finish while they watch your face.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, eyes watering with the strain, her body trembling. And then, as the senior partner droned on about deadlines, Emma climaxed, her face held in careful composure, lips pressed tight, a tiny shudder escaping only as a cough.

When the call finally ended, she slumped back in the chair, breathless.

Another message appeared instantly. “Good girl. You’re mine now.”