She reads her smock's nametag

The pretty JWI worker looked at the gold nametag pinned to the polyester smock she was readying to slip back on. She knew it had been there, the metal back of the hard rectangle had been poking into the top of her left breast as she hurried to fulfill her blackmailer's demands. Sandra just hadn't noticed the name printed on it, assuming a former JWInc. Housekeeping employee had left it on when it was turned in.

The simple block letters revealed much more, the realization hitting Sandra like a baseball bat in the back of the head. She was now sure who her blackmailer was, who was forcing her to humiliate herself so. Sandra Noce stood there naked in the bank vault, her knees trembling, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she re-read the seven letters in black marker on the nametag.

'CUMSLUT' screamed back at her from the plastic placard. No wonder the people in the elevator and the bank stared at her so when she approached them. Wearing this skimpy smockdress and lurid nametag, they must have thought her the world's biggest sleaze. 'Would they really be wrong?' Sandra thought to herself, reflecting on how she had practically **** the poor head teller right here in the vault, just to spray his semen all over her.

Her eyes now bleary with pent-up tears, the frustrated brunette tried to undo the latch on the nametag's back, but it seemed to be glued shut. Sandra gave up, afraid to **** it and tear the already scandalously fitting garment.

"Uh, Miss Noce, I think it best you be leaving now," suggested the fey head teller she had accosted, rather emphatically. He wasn't the usual cheery person who normally greeted her on her previous bank visits.

Sandra merely nodded in response, not even making eye contact as she took the bill-filled briefcase from him after she rebuttoned the housekeeper's uniform.

Making her way out of the bank, she glanced at her reflection in the mirrored metal. Sandra saw the greasy glaze of spent cum she had smeared over her expansive titties made the polyester cling wetly to her curves, the aureoles even more obvious then they had been before, encased inside the ill-fitting confines of the white dress.

Though the loud clack of her high heels on the hard flooring drew even more attention to her, Sandra Noce paid little heed to the astonished stares of those she breezed by as she hustled across the vast expanse of her office building's mezzanine. She was more interested in confronting her blackmailer since she had decided her tormentor was none other than the budgeting department's head, Sarah Jones.

This latest humiliation she found herself in had to have been planned in advance by the frumpy, middle-aged woman. The 'accident' with the 'fresh' cup of coffee, the contents not hot enough to burn, just soil her clothes so she would be able to be 'helped' into what she wore now. She was sure that any other time the dismissive woman would have turned up her nose at her, or berated her for her clumsiness. And, of course, the woman knew where Sandra would be heading, since she sent her to the bank for her payoff. It all seemed so clear now, in hindsight. The curvaceous accounting department worker just wanted to know why.

The outlandishly garbed beauty found herself in front of the bank of elevators. All her pondering on the way made the walk go by quickly. The blackmailed brunette glanced at the illuminated numbers indicating the floors traveled by the cabled boxes. She positioned herself in front of the lift she next expected to arrive. Sandra looked at her watch. Ten minutes left.

As the silver doors hissed open, Sandra Noce stepped quickly forward. Her eyes widened when she looked to the occupants of the small cubicle. She wanted to step back out.