He wants to see his new 'hire' at work.

"Here," he hands you a stereotypical old-fashioned feather duster and indicates a skeletal shelving unit with a few books and ornaments on it. "Get started over there."

"Aren't you... going to uni?" You try to ask the question as innocently as possible. God, the humiliation of stripping for him! But now at least facing him like this the apron covers your exposed nipples and he can't see anything between your legs

"Yeah, in a minute," he smiles, "but I want to make sure you can dust without breaking anything. Get to it." You chew your lip nervously, then take the duster and turn away from him and walk nervously to the shelves on bare feet. All the way you keep tugging at the ass of these panties. How far back does this slit go? What can he see back there? Can he get a peek at your pink flesh showing through the hole. God! All week you're going to be wondering! It's going to be ****.

You try to put it out of your mind, and try to ignore him as well as you dust the mid-level shelves as well you can. It takes a couple of minutes, but he doesn't seem to be leaving yet, so you have to move on to the higher shelves.

You have to stretch this time, you're tall, but not that tall, and almost immediately your apron shifts and your left tit slips free from the white fabric shield. You're facing the shelf, so he can't see you remind yourself, but he must be able to tell what you're doing as you nervously pull the apron back into position. You can hear him stifling a laugh. And then, you've done the high shelves and he still hasn't gone. So you have to do the low shelves.

If you bend over it's pretty clear the kind of view he's going to get, so instead you turn to one side and lower yourself into an awkward squat. But no sooner have you got yourself positioned than he clears his throat. You jump, and almost knock over an expensive looking sculpture.

"C'mon Holly. I know you're limber, I know you do yoga. And you know I won't be satisfied until I get what I want. Stand up, bend over and dust the bottom like that." Your face is scarlet as you rise. "Show it to me. Show me that pussy, and then I'll leave." You don't say anything. You can't. You're his live pornographic entertainment for the week and you just have to take it. You face the shelves, make your legs into the classic inverted V, and bend over at the waist to dust the bottom shelves. It's probably your imagination, but you think you feel a breeze caress your most intimate folds as the slutty crotchless panties expose your most private parts to this pervert.

"Uh, yeah," he says casually after a moment, "I actually still can't see all that well. Do you think you could reach back and pull that hole open and get it so I can get a real good look at your pussy?"

Humiliation upon humiliation. You swallow your rage and place the duster on the floor before reaching back with both hands to widen and position the slit in the panties. You pull on each side of the hole with your fingers and tug it until you're sure that the dark-pink folds of your sex are framed perfectly for him.

"Ooohh, that's it. To be honest I thought it'd take a lot longer to get you acting like a slut. I guess it's coz you're so smart and rational! You can see that there's no way out, and you've just got to be a very good girl for the week." You remain silent, there's nothing to be said, and pick the duster up and go back to work with your big breasts almost flopping out of your small apron, and your cunt exposed for Sean's pleasure.