Going to make an example out of her

With the receptionist giving you directions, you head down the corridors to the back of the building, ignoring the sprawled girls you occasionally come across, discarded after being used. No, your focus is on Ms. Hargreaves, and soon you're at the door to her office, a faded placard with her name and the word "Manager" under it making clear you're in the right place. Pushing the door open, you walk in to find a small enough room, filing cabinets taking up one wall, and a desk and computer filling up much of the space. Behind it sits a woman who looks to be in her forties - thick black rimmed glasses, black hair tied up in a bun, breasts squeezed into a poorly fitted suit, and a sizeable ass to go along with it.

"Ms. Hargreaves? I'm one of your guests. I have a question about the triplets you sent up to me yesterday."

"Hailey, Baylie and... the other one whose name I keep forgetting? Nothing wrong, I hope?"

"They were okay. No, that's not the question here. The question I've got is, where did you get the idea that you get to decide who I fuck from?" With the pointed question asked, you grab her by the throat, pushing past her desk as you push her back, the wheeled chair under her moving until she reaches the back wall.

"That's... part of... the... service," she manages to choke out, trying to explain herself.

"Sending girls up is fine. Good, even. Deciding who those girls are for me, though - that's a problem. One that makes me think you've forgotten your role here. One I think I'm going to have to correct." Her hands are gripping your wrist now, unable to get you to release, leaving her wide open for when your other hand grasps the front of her shirt and pulls, buttons popping off as you rip it open. She's not wearing a bra, so her tits spill out, sagging a little, so you grab a nipple and twist it hard.

Aaaaa!

You've got her attention now. "Now, are you going to do what you're told? Or do you need more?" you ask, and she can't nod fast enough. You're in control now, so you let go of her throat and step back. "Alright, strip then. That suit doesn't belong on a fucktoy like you."

The jacket and shirt come off fast, ruined as they are, and she tosses them into the corner before standing up. Shoes are kicked off next before the trousers come down and off, Ms. Hargreaves bending over and showing you here big fat ass as she does. You can see the indent of something through her panties - she's clearly got something in her ass, and it's revealed moments later as they come down; a metal buttplug wedged firmly inside her.

"Wearing that to work? You really are a slut, aren't you?" you tease. She flushes, nodding. "I need it. The younger girls get most of the attention..." She stands up, turning to face you, and you can see she's clean shaven, her cunt already starting to get wet. "Please..." she begs.