Emily's performance review

I'm sure I look a mess. Gabe and some other anonymous coworkers ran a surprise train on me this morning, then threw my dress back on me without any washing up. My hair is a bird's nest, and my dress is sticking to me in places on my body where I'm mysteriously sticky. I do not feel like I'm presenting a professional appearance. There's no time to do anything about it, because it's time for my performance review.

I pull down the hem of my work minidress one more time, very aware of my lack of underwear, and then I knock on Greg's office door. He invites me in and I close it behind me.

"Hi Emily! You were off sick for a couple days there. Are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah," I smile awkwardly. I had to take a couple days off after being used like a human fleshlight at my dom's blind no limits gangbang last weekend. I can't talk about that with my manager, so I tell some white lies.

"What can you tell me about this?" Greg asks and turns his monitor. It's showing me strip naked in what is very clearly our workplace supply room. Gabe recorded it yesterday when he blackmailed me. I watch the screen as I see myself unzip my skirt yesterday, then step out of it. I pulled down my thong. The camera did a humiliating close up of my bare pussy, and then I had bent over showing off the curves of my ass and my bare legs with my jeweled plug and wet pussy visible from behind. There's no voice on the recording -- just me inexplicably stripping.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Emily," Greg says.

I squirm. I am humiliated, trapped. Do I snitch on Gabe? I have no evidence. He's anonymous. It would be my word against his footage of me being being an unprofessional slut at work. At best they'd fire both of us and not just me. I wouldn't be a team player. I'd be a right bitch if I did that. But what other choices do I have?

Greg has a bulge. I notice a rather prominent tent in his trousers. Fuck, my mentor at work has a hard-on for my striptease, for my humiliation. Just the sight of my naked body brings him pleasure. He's into me being cocksocket. He's not here for my well-being -- he's here for my degradation. There's only one thing to do.

I stand up and pull off my work minidress, a now familiar motion. My beautiful, only slightly aching tits spill free in Greg's face. He takes no move to stop me. I put his hands on my tits. He squeezes, which feels strangely comforting, and then I crawl naked under his desk. He's got a thick cock, not the longest but a wide girth. I wrap my soft pink lips around him and suck.