...stop daydreaming, I'm standing half naked with an erection in a hospital foyer!

I apologise, dear reader, for getting totally caught up in so many tangents. Its a thing. Coming back to my primary story, I have just fled the scene of my most recent exposure, minus one specially-modified quick release dress, and my phone had announced to the world, yet again, what I sound like when I'm cumming. I realise that I have comprehensively fucked up my assignment, and that substantial "corrective action" (as Buxom insists on calling it) will be immediately required.

While there is no question my dearest Buxom is well aware of my noncompliance, I decide that the best outcome from this point is to resume my original tasks (both Buxom's and the one from the admin person). No doubt there will be numerous consequences, but I'll think about those when they arrive.

I realise that the time assigned to me to perform for the whole waiting room enough to coax orgasms from *all* of them started counting down quite some time ago. I feel like it is long past any reasonable possibility of success, but if I don't make an attempt, the consequences don't even bear thinking about.