You make an entrance

When you get back to your desk you see that Mr. Chandler's door is standing a few inches open. You put your purse in your desk drawer and step to his door. Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you tap on the door and step in, closing it behind you and leaning against it. He's sitting behind his desk, watching you with interested eyes.

You stare at him and let yourself slide down the door until you're on your knees, then put your damp panties in your mouth, letting them dangle so he has no doubt what they are. Never taking your eyes off his, you crawl across the office floor to him, raising your swaying rump in supplication like a bitch to an alpha dog, letting him know that's exactly what you are.

He watches your crawling approach, a knowing smile on his face, an appreciative look in his eyes. You know you're degrading yourself, but you can't help it. You've never felt so alive, so excited, so fulfilled, so wanton. Your slow, swaying crawl has brought you to within a few feet of him, and your eyes stare up at his face, silently seeking his approval.