Reminder of your place

As the laughter continues to swirl around the office, a wave of self-awareness crashes over you. You feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck, and an overwhelming urge to reclaim some semblance of dignity surges within you. After watching Megan sink lower and lower, the idea strikes you that perhaps it’s time to shift the focus back to yourself.

You glance over at the corner where you had left your suit jacket, and your heart races with the thought of putting it back on. It was a symbol of authority, of who you used to be. You approach the discarded fabric, but before you can even reach it, Eleanor’s voice slices through the chatter like a knife.

“Tom,” she calls, her tone icy, “what do you think you’re doing?”

You freeze mid-motion, your hand hovering above your jacket. “I was just—”

“Just what?” she interjects sharply, her eyes narrowing. “You think you can just put that back on and walk around like you’re still in charge? You’ve lost that privilege. You’re not the boss anymore, remember?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You open your mouth to retort, to assert your former status, but the authority in her voice silences you. The very essence of her presence reminds you of the new hierarchy you’re now a part of, and suddenly, the notion of wearing that suit seems ludicrous.

“Get back to your place,” Eleanor continues, her tone firm and uncompromising. “You’ve enjoyed your little fantasies, but that’s not who you are anymore. You’re ours, and you need to accept that.”

You nod slowly, your earlier confidence crumbling away under the weight of her words. “I just thought—”

“Stop thinking,” she snaps. “You clearly don’t know your place. You’re not the boss here, Tom. You’re not in control anymore. Megan is cleaning up after you, not the other way around.”

Feeling the humiliation wash over you, you turn your attention back to Megan, who is still kneeling on the floor, the maid’s outfit hugging her curves as she tidies up the office. In a moment of desperation, you decide to try and assert some control, even if it’s just a small step.

“Megan,” you say, your voice laced with the remnants of authority, “you need to clean up after me. This is unacceptable.”

But before Megan can respond, Emily steps in, her expression shifting to one of sheer disdain. “Are you serious right now?” she scoffs, crossing her arms. “You think you can just bark orders at her? After what we just did?”

“Megan is still my employee,” you protest, though your voice lacks conviction.

Emily’s expression hardens, and she strides toward you, closing the distance with an intensity that makes your heart race. “You’re forgetting your position again,” she says, her voice low and dangerous. Without a moment’s hesitation, she delivers a sharp slap across your face.

The sting radiates through your skin, and you’re momentarily stunned. You reach up to touch your cheek, feeling the heat from her hand linger there. The shock quickly gives way to a rush of humiliation mixed with something deeper, something that sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

“Remember who you are,” Emily hisses, leaning in close so that only you can hear. “You’re our little plaything now. You don’t get to give orders. You’re nothing without us.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the truth you’ve been trying to deny. You nod slowly, your earlier bravado completely shattered. “I… I understand,” you stammer, your gaze dropping to the floor in submission.

“Good,” she says, straightening up and turning back to Megan, who watches the exchange with a mixture of resentment and satisfaction. “Now get back to work, both of you. Tom, you will help Megan clean this mess up.”

Your heart sinks at the thought, but you know there’s no arguing. You’ve crossed a line, and now the consequences are clear. You kneel down beside Megan, the two of you in the same humiliating position, and you can feel the weight of her glare.

“Now,” Emily instructs, her voice firm, “both of you will clean this office together. I want it spotless. And don’t forget, Megan, you’re not just cleaning up after Tom—you’re cleaning up after yourself, too.”

With that, you both begin to pick up the scattered papers and remnants of the earlier chaos. The atmosphere is thick with tension, the reality of your new positions settling heavily on your shoulders. You glance over at Megan, who is clearly struggling with the indignity of it all. But beneath her frustration, you can also see a flicker of satisfaction, as though she’s reveling in the idea of making you clean after her.

The office buzzes with life, and the laughter fades into whispers as the other women observe the scene. It’s a surreal tableau of power dynamics shifting yet again. Here you are, once a successful businessman, now reduced to a mere cleaner alongside the woman who once held authority over you.

Every movement feels laden with humiliation, but with each task you complete, a strange exhilaration grows within you. The very act of cleaning beside Megan, sharing this moment of degradation, makes your heart race in a way you can’t quite explain.

And as you sweep the floor, the reality of your position finally sinks in: you are no longer the one giving orders. You are beneath them—*beneath her.*